


up above the world (so far away)

by kingburu



Series: til we grow old [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: The touch is chilling. Nico can’t hear a heartbeat. Jason’s skin is colder than ice against Nico’s own, and he feels the goosebumps rise against his arms as his cheek is against the crook of Jason’s ghostly neck. They’re close to the same height, Nico thinks, and he shivers as Jason envelops him in a deeper hug.“You’re so cold,” is all that Nico can say. A thousand words are on his tongue and a million questions run through his mind, but all he can focus on is Jason.“You’re not,” Jason whispers back.Nico hugs him back, holding back a sob against Jason’s shoulder.--After Jason dies, Nico spends a year and a half trying to move on. Trying not to spiral, like he did with Bianca. But as much as everyone tries to help him, he wasn't happy that Jason left him in the first place. And for some reason, he's still not happy now.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, pre-breakup!Will Solace/Nico di Angelo
Series: til we grow old [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804777
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	up above the world (so far away)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a companion piece to in the depths of elysium! Thank you SO MUCH for all of the support and love that you guys have given, and I'm so glad to be able to post this a day after Jason's birthday! A lot of these scenes are what happened with Nico while Jason died, and I will warn that it skips around a little--which is why you should totally read in the depths of elysium to fill in THOSE missing pieces!
> 
> I'll give the same warning as before: if you haven't read past Heroes of Olympus, **SPOILERS!!** Jason is dead! But if you've read my first story, I totally fixed it!
> 
> Lastly, before you proceed, I want to point you to this [lovely post](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/620418567364542464/im-rereading-the-titans-curse-and-just-reminded) if you're curious as to why the Stoll Brothers are heavily included!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

During winter break, Percy finds Nico di Angelo sitting under Thalia’s tree, cross-legged and plucking fistfuls of dead grass before discarding it at his feet. The golden fleece glows effervescently around the tree trunk and hums. New blades of grass sprout each time Nico pulls his hands away, but quickly withers. Percy watches the relentless cycle briefly: _sprout (we’re alive!)_ , _rip (noooo!), deposit (punishment_ ), _sprout (we’re alive again!)—_ and so on.

“Having fun?” Percy asks, and Nico shrugs idly, his hands harvesting a small grass heap that would be a savory dinner for Blackjack later, if the son of Hades kept working on it. “I’m surprised you’re not in the med bay. You and Will have been joined at the hip ever since—”

“We’re not joined at the hip,” Nico interjects, and he sounds routinely cranky for the early afternoon.

He pauses briefly, his hand hovering over the grass and debating if he would judge them for Eternal Punishment or leave them shining in sunny Elysium. He settles on the middle of Asphodel, scooting over the patch of grass to make room for Percy, and then fiddles with his skull ring. His tone of his voice is so irritable that Percy would think better to leave Nico be, but then he looks up with an impartial gaze, and Percy decides to join him.

“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to hit a sore spot,” Percy says. He watches as Nico picks up an apple and throws it to Peleus. The dragon raises its head from its drowsy slumber, engulfing the apple in one fatal bite. “Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

Nico looks at Percy from the corner of his eye suspiciously, his hand stretching out to scratch under Peleus’s chin. “ _You_ wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Yeah, before Annabeth and I leave for New Rome,” Percy says, and it’s admittedly part of his efforts to be a better friend to Nico. “It was pretty cool hanging out with you during break, you know? I’m glad Will’s making you so happy.”

Nico suddenly looks uncomfortable, and he starts fiddling with the grass again. Percy imagines the patch howling with fear against their war against the giant bony hand. Then, Percy remembers the careful words Jason had given Annabeth and he shortly before leaving for Pasadena. Nico is _out_ , but he’s still adjusting.

“You’re making more of an effort of staying at camp,” Percy continues, and in solidarity, he yanks at the grass near his shorts. “You know, like last night. When we watched the orientation video.”

This time, Nico makes a prickly sound, the grass snapping at his fingers, and snorts. “You mean when I scared the campers.”

“Yeah, man, everyone’s talking about it,” Percy says, and he watches as Nico’s lips press into a flat line. “How funny it was. How you started singing to hokey-pokey and clapping your hands, and—”

“It,” Nico interjects again, with the same ire as before, when Percy mentioned being joined to the hip with Will Solace, “wasn’t that funny, Percy.”

Percy takes that moment to assess Nico this time. He doesn’t understand how he didn’t notice it before—the grass was dead wherever Nico sat, only coming to life again thanks to the golden fleece. But it only breathes momentarily before withering again. Grass shouldn’t wilt so easily, even with the son of Hades sitting above it. Nico’s upset _._

He briefly reenacts what happened last night in his head: how they were celebrating relaxing like usual: sitting around the campfire singing songs, when Nico, glowing under the warmth of the flames, suggested a new song from some ancient orientation video that no one had seen before. He’d clapped his hands and sang some lyrics to hokey-pokey. Nico had embarrassed himself, being the only one who’d seen the tape before, but that hadn’t lasted long. Connor insisted on breaking into Chiron’s office to find this old VHS tape.

Maybe the embarrassment delves deeper than Percy understands.

“Was it because Will said you scared the campers?” Percy guesses, recounting how the discomfort first started. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, Nico. He was just shocked that you were singing.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrow together, his lips curling into a crescent-shaped frown, and he hugs his knees to his chest before looking in the opposite direction.

Percy feels even more confused. “He was just teasing, Nico.”

“Teasing,” Nico echoes half-heartedly, and his hand fists the grass again. “I know.”

“Did you…not like being teased?” Percy recalls how the rest of the night unfolded, how Nico had sat comfortably beside Annabeth and him to watch Apollo sing in his too-short toga while Will Solace painfully grimaced with his siblings on the other side of the room. Nico had been flustered, but the three of them had fun last night. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to talk to Nico _now_ , but he thinks he understands a little better.

“It’s fine, Percy,” Nico sighs exasperatedly, and the latter demigod wonders if he’s overstaying his welcome. “You and Annabeth do it to each other all of the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s _Annabeth and me_ ,” Percy says, and this time, Nico peers skeptically in his direction. “Sometimes I need her to double check if I’ve written my _name_ correctly. And we _like_ getting under each other’s skin. You and Will are different. He knows all these smart medical terms and you’ve communed with historical figures. If anything, that’s more reason to _not_ have a relationship like ours.”

To his surprise, Nico laughs at his declaration and he goes back to clutching his ankles with his hands instead. “ _You’re_ smart, Percy.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, and he relaxes against the tree trunk for the first time. He’s jealous at how easy Jason makes it look, talking to Nico. “And, you know, not all relationships are like Annabeth and mine. Look at your sister and Frank—that’s just an earnest relationship there. Or Piper and Jason—”

“Piper and Jason broke up,” Nico informs him, and there’s a way he says it that instantly makes him sound irritated again. “And they left before last night.”

Right. Percy studies Nico for a moment, noting the wrinkle in Nico’s brow and the scrunch of his nose. For some reason, Nico sounds saddest at the end of his sentence. “Jason’s probably seen the orientation video.”

The edge of Nico’s lips curl, the first hint of a smile since Percy sat down.

“You know that rule-follower,” Percy continues, and he shakes his head. “He probably took notes in case there’d be a quiz afterwards. Did you know Camp Jupiter has a brochure? It’s signed by Reyna and him. I saw his signature way before I ever met him.”

The other end of Nico’s lips lift, and his hands loosen lightly around his ankles.

“Jason would’ve sung with you,” Percy continues. “Too bad he left.”

Just like that, the smile fades just a little against Nico’s face. He rocks gently, his voice tight as he speaks again. “Yeah. Too bad.”

Percy suppresses the urge to heave a heavy sigh, each swing feeling like a miss or a foul in attempt to talk to Nico di Angelo. He thinks Nico is going to shadowtravel away or dismiss him, but this new Nico—the one that’s trying to relax after the war—doesn’t. He’s trying to fit in.

And this time, Percy makes careful note to check up on Nico, _especially_ after the war. It’s different from that ten-year-old kid that would yammer in his ear when Percy wanted nothing more than peace and focus. Sometimes the conversations feel too cordial, and other times they’re able to get along swimmingly.

“Sorry,” Percy offers. “I know Jason’s better at this.”

“If Jason was better at this, then he wouldn’t have left.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico grumbles, and he turns and offers a grateful look, despite their tension. “What time are you and Annabeth leaving?”

Percy stares at Nico, unconvinced, but decides not to push the subject. “About three-ish or so. Want to sneak some snacks from the Mess Hall?”

Nico’s gaze looks a little less wary, and Percy decides it means they’re going to end on a _swimming_ note for winter break. “Sure.”

They walk down the hilltop, and Percy pretends not to notice Nico giving Peleus one last stroke under the chin. He wonders how often Nico comes to Thalia’s tree. Before Jason left, he used to spend a lot of time sketching at the hilltop, and Percy thinks he’d occasionally see Nico relaxing beside Jason under the Long Island wind. It’s certainly an easier place to relax than with Big Ugly Zeus back in Cabin One, or the coffins and cobwebs of Cabin Thirteen.

Nico stuffs an extra bag of peanut M&Ms to share with Connor Stoll later while Percy and Annabeth split a croissant. Percy notices Nico looks a little more relaxed but refuses to look at the med bay. Instead, he answers questions that Annabeth asks, and laughs when Percy chokes on his own spit.

Then, when three o’clock rolls around and Percy’s mom is parked at the outskirts of camp, Annabeth and Nico share a hug. Percy goes for one too, but Nico clears his throat and they shake hands instead.

“Look, Nico,” Percy says one last time, deciding to part with words of wisdom, “if Will really upsets you, then maybe you can talk to him.”

Then, Annabeth and Nico both shoot him a look. Annabeth’s in particular clearly says, _What did you and your Seaweed Brain do?_ and Percy shrugs.

Nico looks like he’s about to scowl, but he stares at his feet instead. “I already tried.”

Annabeth’s weary suspicion melts at the defeat in his tone, and Percy wishes she was with them earlier. She’s smart about these things. So, she smiles reassuringly and squeezes Nico’s shoulder because he’s totally okay with that instead. “Try again. I know _you’re_ not one to get knocked down so easily, di Angelo.”

He peers back up through his hair, and a quiet smile etches across his lips. ( _Way_ easier than Percy’s attempt. Seriously.)

“And,” Annabeth says in the same soothing tone, “I know you and Will are in that honeymoon phase, but make sure you visit Hazel and Reyna soon. I’m sure they’re missing you already.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, though his face seems to scrunch up at the words, _honeymoon phase_. Percy doesn’t know why it’s called a _phase._ Annabeth and he bicker all the time, but he thinks they’re more in love now than a year ago.

“And,” Percy adds, “go visit Jason if you miss him so much.”

He doesn’t know why he has such bad luck imparting words of wisdom. Maybe it _is_ just a child of Athena thing, but Nico shoots him a sour look, and the grass looks like it’s about to wither at his feet again. Surprisingly, it stands still, just the teeniest shade of yellow.

“Jason went to Pasadena to learn more about his mother,” Nico says quietly. “I don’t think he wants me there.”

And, Annabeth glares at Percy again, like, _look what you did now_ , and Percy shrugs helplessly. Luckily, she gives Nico’s shoulder another squeeze. “Maybe he’ll be here for spring break.”

Nico looks up, still doubtful for a moment, but there’s hope in his eyes. “Maybe Jason will come back for spring break.”

Percy smiles, declaring the conversation victorious. “Yeah, maybe.”

*

Annabeth and Percy come down to New Rome in order to tour the university over winter break. Frank thinks it’s a silly thought—for all the gorgons slain, hurricanes drawn, and giant statues that were rescued, the pair seems more excited about college textbooks and afternoon classes. Percy reaches out and hugs a marble column that’s part of the student union, and Annabeth rolls her eyes and tells him not to make a scene—but Frank is ninety-nine percent sure that she’s petting the beam herself.

Hazel and Frank show the happy Greek couple the courtyard across from the library, and they settle for a picnic. Percy goes ham for a plate of blue cookies from the culinary arts kids and Annabeth spends their picnic counting how much money she has to buy textbooks _now._

“Nico and Will come by at all?” Percy asks between each bite.

Hazel’s eyebrows furrow together, and she splits part of her beignet. “Nico and who?”

Frank tries to remember the many campers that they’d met on their one night at Camp Halfblood. There were so many, and they were so relaxed and _singing_ so much that he was a little overwhelmed. “You mean that blond healer?”

Percy nods, wiping blue crumbs on his sleeve, and goes for another cookie. “Nico’s boyfriend? Will Solace.”

“ _What_?” Frank’s eyes widen, but his first instinct is to look at Hazel and gauge her reaction.

Her lips are white with powdered sugar, and her eyes widen. “Nico has a boyfriend?”

Percy suddenly swallows hard, choking down his last cookie. “Oh…oops.”

His complexion suddenly pales, and both Annabeth and he share a look, like they used to above the Argo II. Then, they look every bit as concerned as Frank feels, moving their gazes towards her.

Hazel’s gold eyes flicker between all three of them, exasperated. “What?”

“Well…” Frank’s voice trails off. “How do you feel?”

She gives him a pointed look that reminds Frank that she’s wise beyond her years and powerful. After all, that’s why he fell in love with her. Hazel rolls her eyes and sets her beignet down. “I went to a school for _colored folk_ and my mom worked as a maid for white people in Alaska. Don’t you think I’d be the _last_ person to look down on my _brother_?”

Annabeth and Percy sigh in relief and Frank smiles.

“Besides—you can’t go two seconds around New Rome without seeing two people make out, same-sex or not,” Hazel continues. She wipes her mouth on a napkin (which is way more civil than Percy) and pushes a lock of cinnamon brown hair behind her ear. “As for why he hasn’t told me…he’s a private person. I’m sure he would have said something eventually if Will’s worth bringing around.”

“Well,” Percy says, and he reaches out, disappointed to find that he’s finished his plate of cookies and reaches for Annabeth’s trail mix instead. “Will pissed him off the last time we were there.”

Hazel frowns. “In what way?”

“Nico started singing this song he learned from the orientation video he watched back when he first came to camp,” Percy explains. “Everyone got really quiet and Will told him that he was scaring the campers. I mean, it worked out in the end—Connor broke into Chiron’s office so we could _all_ watch the video.”

“Percy, hold on.” Hazel’s gaze narrows and her frown deepens. “Nico sang a song.”

“Yeah,” Percy says.

“And this boyfriend of his said he was scaring the campers.”

“Yeah.”

“In front of everyone,” Hazel repeats, and her voice drips with more annoyance.

Suddenly, Percy’s eyes widen, and he pulls his hand away from the trail mix. “Oh.”

Annabeth suddenly grimaces, and Frank has the faintest idea that she was probably sitting around this campfire too, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Frank thinks he understands—for all of the years that the pair has known Nico di Angelo, they didn’t spend the same amount of time _getting to know him_ as Hazel did. “It seemed like it was in good fun at the time. Like he was just flirting.”

“By telling Nico that he was _scaring people_?” Hazel repeats, and her eyes glimmer with frustration.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Percy says, and he suddenly groans. “He didn’t make a big deal about it at the time.”

“Nico doesn’t make a big deal out of _anything_ ,” Hazel continues. “He’s too nice!”

Percy and Annabeth share another look, as though recalling something familiar. Frank isn’t sure what to make of the reaction, but suddenly their Greek companions look a little guilty, and Percy presses a hand to his face in defeat.

“He was feeling better by the end of the night,” Annabeth reassures, and she uses this motherly, big sister tone that makes Hazel relax a little. “We all watched the orientation video together.”

“And he and I talked about Will,” Percy adds. “I told him that if he didn’t like the way Will teased him, then they should talk.”

Hazel scrutinizes him warily, and it’s almost funny how Percy sweats under her gaze. Percy has almost a foot over her, but her glower could move mountains. “And?”

“And I told him that just because Annabeth and I make fun of each other the way we do, doesn’t mean we’re a baseline for his relationship,” Percy finishes, sounding genuine enough for the daughter of Pluto. He tilts his head in Annabeth’s direction. “I mean, there are way other ideal relationships. Look at you and Frank.”

“Me and Hazel?” Frank echoes, sounding flattered and surprised at the same time.

“Frank treats me well,” Hazel agrees, and she places a hand on his arm reassuringly.

“Totally well,” Percy agrees, and he nods wholeheartedly. “Or Jason and Piper. Before—you know—their breakup.”

“Piper and Jason _broke up_?” Hazel repeats, and the disbelief is so powerful in her voice that Percy looks ready to smack himself with a plate.

“The point is, Seaweed Brain and I left Nico with some good advice and I think it means he’s going to put his foot down with Will so that it doesn’t happen again. Don’t worry, Hazel.” Thankfully, Annabeth interjects once more. She flashes Hazel a look and a subtle headshake that probably means, _I’ll tell you later._

Hazel’s eyebrows knit together, but she nods. “Well, I’ll trust my brother to take care of himself. But it sounds like this _Connor_ guy would’ve been a _way better_ boyfriend.”

Again, Percy and Annabeth look at each other, sharing funny grins before laughing.

“No way, Hazel,” Percy says between snickers. “The Stoll Brothers have known Nico since he was ten. They were his head counsellors for a while after Bianca left with the Huntresses.”

He delves into an explanation about how new arrivals start out at the Hermes Cabin if they haven’t been claimed yet, and how at that point, neither of the di Angelos knew who their father was or that they were living in a different century. Frank has to hold back a sound of disbelief—Nico is _way more_ attuned to his godly parentage than other demigods. It’s hard to believe that pale, quiet kid used to be bright and babbly as Percy describes. Even as Percy goes on, Frank notices there’s a small strain in his voice—a bit melancholy, even.

“Guess Travis and Connor never saw past that ten-year-old kid they’d play poker with,” Percy finishes with a nonchalant shrug. “Will’s not a big fan of them though. They’ll send kids to the infirmary because of their pranks.”

“And yet only one of the two people you’ve mentioned here defended Nico,” Hazel points out, her voice filled with irritation.

Percy makes a face, evidently considering her words, and then leads with, “I also told him that Jason probably watched the orientation video. You know, to integrate in Greek stuff and what not.”

“Jason _definitely_ watched the video,” Annabeth says, and she shakes her head. “I mean—he, Piper, and Leo usually did their own thing, but he _insisted_ on learning everything about Camp Halfblood. Seriously, it was offputting.”

“He’s also in Camp Jupiter’s brochure,” Hazel supplies with amusement, and her tone relaxes enough for Percy to sigh in relief.

Suddenly, Frank pipes in. “You guys ever get the vibe that Jason and Nico were into each other?”

He’s very surprised at the number of eyes that are staring at him in disbelief. Frank fiddles with the praetor badge pinned to his shirt.

“Really? None of you?” Frank continues, and he waves his hand. “Hazel—don’t you remember how intensely they were staring at each other at the House of Hades? Like, Nico made this whole speech and everything.”

Hazel arches a cinnamon eyebrow in the air, and she suddenly looks more like her brother as she considers his words. “Yeah, I guess it was kind of intense. But we were drinking poison.”

“Nico stares at _everyone_ intensely,” Percy protests. “He’s—well, he’s Nico.”

“Well, Jason spent most of the battle making sure Nico was okay. There was this one point that Nico almost fell and Jason caught him,” Frank continues, and he folds his arms together, recalling the strange scene after the euphoric high of being promoted to praetor had worn off. “And Nico doesn’t like _anyone_ touching him.”

“He would’ve fallen,” Hazel says dismissively.

“To the ground, where he could’ve picked himself up?” Frank continues, and his tone is skeptical. “What about all of those looks that Jason kept giving Nico while we were flying to Epirus? Like, whenever we were eating and stuff. And whenever Nico was up on the mast?”

Hazel’s demeanor shifts, looking a little more convinced of his words.

“Wait, all that happened while we were in Tartarus?” Percy arches an eyebrow.

“Not just Tartarus,” Frank says, and he _still_ can’t believe that everyone is looking at him like he’s grown a second head. And—well, he probably _could_ grow a second head, but that’s beside the point. “You don’t remember Jason scraping food into the brazier and praying to his dad to help Nico?”

“Nico, Reyna, and Hedge?” Annabeth asks uncertainly.

“ _Nico_ ,” Frank reaffirms. “What about the time that Jason hit his head and kept calling out for Nico?”

They all stare at him, and Frank briefly feels his cheeks tingle.

“Am I really the only person who noticed all of this?” he asks, and the way they look at each other confirms, yes, he’s the only one that’s given it this much thought. Frank wouldn’t even call it _much_ _thought_ —the actions were all there.

“I mean,” Percy confesses slowly, “I always wondered why Jason and Nico got along so easily after the war. Jason seemed to make a beeline for Nico’s door for the rest of the summer.”

Annabeth falls silent, her stormy gray eyes flickering with an epiphany. “And they were always teaming up with the Hermes Cabin for Capture the Flag.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because there’s only _two_ of them,” Percy says, “and you normally call dibs on me.”

“Are you complaining?” she teases.

“Of course not, I like winning,” Percy retorts, the corner of his lip rising into a smirk, but he looks back at Frank and Hazel with the same introspection he offered last summer when he was still without his memories as they traversed Alaska. “Nico’s been spending time under Thalia’s tree. I think Jason and he used to hang out there a lot.”

“You keep saying _used to_ and _seemed_ ,” Hazel says with concern. Frank doesn’t blame her—after the bad first impression Nico’s boyfriend has already made, he’s sure that she’s worried about all the other friends that are taking care of Nico, like Percy and Annabeth. “Did something happen?”

“Oh,” Percy says finally, and he looks relieved that he didn’t spill another big secret. “Jason left. Nico says he went to Pasadena to find out about his mom.”

“His sister, Thalia, apparently didn’t tell him much,” Annabeth explains. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Honestly, sometimes I still have a hard time remembering that they’re related. Thalia _never_ brought him up.”

“Did you and his sister know each other or something?” Frank asks.

Annabeth flashes him a stern look that makes him a little tenser, wondering if he’s asking about a sensitive topic, but then she nods. “Thalia raised me for a little while. It’s a long story, but…we were close.”

Hazel contemplates the words. “Jason used to walk around this camp with a sad look in his eyes. I wonder if he would’ve been happier if he grew up at Camp Halfblood to begin with. If his sister was there.”

There’s a wistfulness in her tone, and Frank thinks back to how Hazel and Nico clung to each other even when they barely knew each other since they were the only two known children of Pluto. Hazel always seems gloomier when they have to say goodbye.

“Well, Thalia was there as a _tree_ for a while, and then as a person for a couple of months,” Percy says, and he shrugs. “Then she left. And then Jason got to stay at Halfblood for a little while.”

“Until he left, too,” Frank repeats.

He feels bad for Jason. From the twelve stripes on the old praetor’s arms, it isn’t hard to surmise how long Jason was at Camp Jupiter before Juno meddled last summer. Frank learned he had a lot of siblings in the Ares Cabin, too, and Clarisse LaRue had welcomed him in the cabin. She made him arm-wrestle for a bunkbed. They’re only _half_ -siblings, who’d known each other for a day and had that familiarity. Thalia knew Jason _before_ the Legion, and they clearly don’t cross paths often.

“What sparked the sudden interest?” Frank decides to ask. He thinks back to his relationship with his own mom and how close they were before his home in New Rome. Frank thinks about her often—and about how life used to be, even though she’s dead.

Percy strokes his chin and makes a face. “I’m not sure. I didn’t even know that was the reason he left until Nico told me.”

“And when did he leave?” Hazel asks. Her lips contort into a frown. “Before the breakup?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Percy looks back to Annabeth, and even she looks stumped.

“Around the time Will and Nico started dating,” she decides. “That’s for sure.”

Frank makes one more pointed look and waves his hands around. Seriously, he couldn’t be crazy, right?

“Coincidence, Frank,” Percy dismisses. “Don’t be crazy.”

*

Jason visits shortly before the beginning of the spring semester. Hazel thinks he looks less like a military leader and more like a Roman scholar, with his pristine imperial gold glasses, dark slacks, and a navy-blue cardigan that reads _Edgarton Day and Boarding School._ Few campers even look his way, unable to recognize the old Jason Grace, Praetor to the Twelfth Legion. Instead, Jason looks like an oversized poindexter with his head in a sketchbook, scribbling notes as they go to Temple Hill.

Hazel’s not even sure how to describe it—Jason looks more animated these days now that he’s not in the Legion, occasionally looking down to his sketches to compare them to an empty hilltop. His brow still wrinkles with concentration, and he mumbles more under his breath.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” Jason says all of a sudden, and it makes her jump. His azure eyes look brighter under the sun, and he smiles at her. “You and Frank doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Hazel replies. There’s a vibrance in his voice that confuses her. “I heard about your breakup with Piper.”

The edge of Jason’s smile wanes, and a mild discomfort flashes across his eyes. It quickly disappears and he tucks his mechanical pencil in the metal spiral of his book. “Have you heard from her?”

She thinks back to what Annabeth had told her not too long ago, about how Piper and Jason left in a haste one day during winter break at separate times. Piper had taken the Hedges with her, explaining to Annabeth the plan to focus on finishing school and _not boys_ for a while, and Jason had left by himself, hardly saying goodbye. Piper and Annabeth are close (it’s hard not to be, after going through a war together), but Hazel supposes Jason is still as private as he was when he was a child of Rome.

It's hard to stay neutral. Especially if Piper is as heartbroken as Annabeth described. Since Jason seems pretty lax about the whole situation, too. But Hazel’s broken up enough makeout sessions at the barracks and called many gladiator duels off due to teen drama, so she decides that Piper and Jason’s business isn’t _her_ business.

“She hasn’t said anything to me,” Hazel confesses. “Annabeth said she was pretty angry with you.”

“It’s better that way,” Jason says, and he doesn’t elaborate. The boy that she described as animated moments ago looks more rigid—more like the soldier that used to waltz around New Rome with the sadness in his eyes. There’s a tightness in his voice that makes Hazel decides not to dwell on, and if she _really_ needs to drown the old praetor in gravel later, she’ll make the judgement call later.

Instead, they remain civil, and Jason makes his way to the Jupiter Optimus Maximus to pay his respects. He stands there for a short while, and Hazel pretends she isn’t eavesdropping. Pretends she doesn’t hear him pray to _keep watch over New Rome_ , and _Piper_ and _especially Nico._

“Has he reached out to you at all?” Hazel asks, when Jason finishes his prayer. “Since Athens?”

Jason shakes his head, trying not to look disappointed. “What about you and your dad?”

“Dreams,” Hazel confesses reluctantly.

“Premonitions?” Jason asks with concern, and Hazel keeps from shaking her head in disbelief. How does a guy go through a bad breakup and still sound so levelheaded?

“Maybe,” Hazel confesses, and she doesn’t delve any further. All she knows is, she’s waking up in cold sweat more often than not again, and she doesn’t like what that means as a daughter of Pluto.

Respectfully, Jason decides not to pry. His blond eyebrows knit together with worry, and then he relinquishes his gaze. “Well, let Frank know if they start to get bad. And Nico. And I’m here too, for the time-being, if—”

“I know, Jason.” Hazel smiles and decides to stay in neutral territory for the day. “Thank you.”

They settle on an empty hilltop and crack open two cans of diet pepsi. Jason grins immediately, sitting just at the dip and staring back at the grassy summit. He flips through the sketchbook to a surprisingly clean drawing of a goddess, followed by several pristine notes in different corners. “So Nico and I were communing with the dead—”

Hazel chokes on her soda. “You and Nico were doing _what_?”

Jason stares at her in confusion, and Hazel suddenly has a slurry of carbonated soda dripping out of the corners of her mouth.

She shakes her head and reaches for a napkin. “You caught me off guard. Go on.”

He gives her the same concerned look he had when she mentioned her dreams but carries on. Hazel doesn’t listen all the way through—she hears something about Nico summoning sailors that have died from Kymopoleia’s wrath, but her mind still swirls at Jason and Nico communing with the dead _together._ The last time Nico had announced that was at the dining table aboard the Argo II, and Hazel hadn’t missed the way everyone suddenly looked uncomfortable. She remembers very clearly shooting a glare at Leo (wherever that idiot might be.) But now she recalls that maybe she wasn’t the only one.

The other person is sitting cross-legged from her, casually talking about drowned sailors like he’s commenting on the weather. Hazel watches as Jason’s eyes flit from gesturing at the hill to the little notes scribbled at the side of his goddess shrine, and his smile seems a little livelier. It’s different from the guarded one he’d given at the mention of Piper. Or the kind one when asking about Frank and her.

“Do you know about some orientation video at Camp Halfblood?” Hazel finds herself asking.

Jason arches an eyebrow at her, clearly surprised at the change in subject. He perches his mechanical pencil behind his ear and cradles his sketchbook gently. “Yeah. I watched it. Why?”

“Because you and my brother are the only two people who have seen that movie, apparently,” Hazel says slowly. “At least, before this past winter break.”

Suddenly, Jason’s expression does something that she doesn’t expect. His eyebrows wilt together slowly, and his lips etch into a mirthful grin, charmed. “Nico’s seen the movie? I’m surprised that never came up in conversation.”

Hazel thinks back to what Frank said not too long ago, about how intensely her brother had looked at Jason Grace before handing him poison. She didn’t think much of it back then, but she looks now, at the amusement bubbling in Jason’s eyes _for_ her brother and not _at_ her brother. “How many conversations have you two had?”

“Um, a lot, I guess.” There’s a blaring alarming going off (until Hazel realizes it’s just in her head) as Jason’s eyebrows raise a degree, clearly taken aback by the question. His mouth parts into a tiny ‘o,’ and he looks just a little less perfect as he settles against the hilltop. “Not…recently. But—”

His demeanor twists, and Hazel doesn’t know if it’s embarrassment or sheepishness.

“—I wanted to make sure he knew he had a friend at Camp Halfblood,” he finishes. Pink suddenly blooms in his cheekbones, and he fiddle with the edge of his sleeve. Hazel gets a flash of the edge of his tattoo. “Turns out we had a lot more in common than we thought we did.”

“You communed with the dead with him,” Hazel repeats, still trying to wrap her mind around it.

“Sometimes he lets me fly him during Capture the Flag,” Jason supplies, clearly not as hung up on the issue as her. She stares at him carefully, still surprised that their old praetor’s candid look could be undone so easily at the mention of her brother.

“Why did _you_ watch the orientation video?” Hazel asks.

Jason’s eyes flicker with confusion once more, and Hazel _knows_ he didn’t come to Camp Jupiter just to discuss her brother, but now she’s curious. Jason’s insights seem completely different from Annabeth and Percy’s. “Hera took all of my memories and thrust me in Greek territory. If I was going to make allies with them, then I needed to understand where they were coming from. Including how they started.”

“And what did you learn from the video?”

“A couple of awful earworms,” Jason confesses, the edge of his lip twitching. “And that Apollo has some really toned legs.”

Hazel arches an eyebrow, specifically at the last comment, though Jason doesn’t elaborate.

“Nico really watched that video?” Jason asks, and Hazel’s just _shocked_ at the way Jason’s smile seems to widen. “Leo and Piper used to make fun of me for even considering it.”

“Do they not know about the camp brochure?” The corner of Hazel’s mouth lifts.

“Leo kind of blasted New Rome with the ballistae the last time he was here.” Jason shakes his head, and there’s both amusement and exasperation in his tone. “We didn’t have time to talk about unicorn-riding and the variety of foods the Dining Pavilion has to offer.”

“Fair enough,” Hazel decides, and she watches as Jason rubs his temple, where someone had thrown a brick in his face last summer.

She grimaces at the memory. They’d spent so many months worried about where Jason ended up—and while she had her own reasons for being wary around him, it’s crazy how Camp Jupiter quickly turned on their hero when he returned, different. It’s no wonder he’s taken so long to return—or why he insisted on going straight to Temple Hill instead of going to the principia.

“Do you know if he gets the hokey-pokey one stuck in his head?” Jason asks again, and Hazel is just gobsmacked that they’re back to _Nico_ again.

She bites the inside of her mouth, suppressing the irritation for one Will Solace for embarrassing her brother. “How does that one go?”

He breaks into this boyish grin that she never saw at Camp Jupiter—but saw here and then on the Argo II. Then, he sings the jingle a little off-tune and faster than the actual hokey-pokey song. He waves his pencil like a conductor, looking almost whimsical.

Hazel wants to punch Will Solace in the face. “That wasn’t scary at all.”

“Why would it be scary?” Jason looks at her quizzically, still waving his pencil around between his fingers skillfully.

Hazel glances down for a moment and notices that more of the pages in his sketchbook look worn down than not. She tilts her head—and swears she sees _Nico_ scribbled more than once. Before she gets the chance to inspect further, Jason peels the sketchbook away, his lips contorting into a grimace and red in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Jason offers, and he sounds embarrassed. “They’re not the best sketches. I’ve retraced a few times. I really want them to look perfect before Annabeth makes blueprints.” 

She doesn’t think the sketches being _imperfect_ is the reason Jason is blushing. “Did you know that Nico is dating someone? A guy named Will?”

Jason’s reaction is confounding. Beneath the imperial gold glasses, Hazel thinks she sees a flicker of that same sadness. His smile becomes tense again, like it did at the mention of Piper, and his eyebrows knit together, looking pained.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m the one who told him to give it a try.”

*

_I want to see you._

Reyna traces each letter against the paper, feeling the small indent of the words beneath her fingers. Her fingers linger over Thalia’s name at the bottom of the letter. Then she looks at Aurum and Argentum in exasperation.

“What do you think she means by that?” she asks. Both dogs raise their heads, then go back to napping near the balcony. She’s not really sure what she’s hoping for—a lie in Thalia’s words? A hidden meaning? For as long as she’s known Jason, she’s still caught off guard by the contrast of his sister’s earnestness.

She thinks back to only yesterday, after Frank, Hazel, Jason, and she grabbed dinner before their old praetor made his departure.

“I just hope I can build the temples,” he said quietly, casting a pensive glance in the distance as they neared the Caldecott Tunnel.

“Come back during spring break and we can get started on some,” Frank told him.

And then Jason flashed the same look that he did after his field promotion: sad and inexplicable. “Hopefully I can make it.”

Reyna remembers the battle at Mount Othrys. How the Fifth Cohort had raised Jason on a shield after Krios’s defeat. He looked relieved that the battle was finally over and the war was won, but Reyna was moved at the mournful look on his face for the dead praetor that he’d just seceded. A son of Jupiter who shirked power? Not a very Roman ideal, but that’s what made him more…bearable to be around, compared to other campers in a similar position.

So his words to Frank feel purposefully obscure and vague as they always do. Jason always put the camp before his own emotions, and Reyna relished that fact. He valued protecting the pack more than being a leader—which is why it hurt so much when he returned with a new family. A new pack. He seemed happier, but his words yesterday seem to indicate otherwise.

She shirks the memory, and instead pulls out a blank piece of paper and pen, debating on what to write.

Thalia Grace on the other hand, has a spark to her eye that commands a room. She’s forward and brash and makes everyone know her presence rather than power. Reyna thinks Jason and his sister are most similar in one way: they’re good leaders who value their pack. Which is why Thalia is with the huntresses, and Reyna is here, with her own.

“So we can’t see each other,” Reyna mumbles aloud, though she’s not certain how to convey that in a letter without sounding…sad. She cradles Thalia’s letter, thumbing the imprint of the daughter of Zeus’s signature one last time. When she brings it close, she catches the scent of pine.

The office curtain rustles, and Nico materializes behind a column. He smiles at her: a quiet, pleasant one that brings out the hue of his eyes. “Care for a stroll?”

Reyna smiles back at him and neatly folds the letter before setting it in her drawer. “I’d love nothing more.”

They stop by her favorite café, and Reyna watches as Antoni, her favorite barista, carries on a short conversation with Nico before he hands both of them a cup of hot chocolate. Then, they make their way towards the Garden of Bacchus and lay claim to a cement bench near the wine god himself.

Nico takes one sip of his drink, and Reyna notes that he looks healthier than the last time they’ve seen each other. His hair is a little shorter, no longer disheveled from weeks on the Argo II and shadowtraveling, and he looks…less tense. He kicks a foot out in front of him, the heel of his boot pressed against dirt.

“You should see my stepmother’s garden,” Nico says. “This garden almost rivals it.”

“Must be beautiful,” Reyna says, though it’s hard for her to wrap her head around grapevines and flowers thriving in the Underworld.

“It’ll die soon enough,” Nico tells her, as though reading her mind. He makes a face, and casually props his other foot in front of him. “My stepmother takes my father’s heart with him whenever she comes to the surface. At least that’s what he says. The garden withers with his sadness during the six months that she’s gone.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

The edge of Nico’s lips curls with amusement. “They’ve done this for millennia and he still grieves every time she leaves.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that nonsense,” Reyna muses. She wonders what she could _possibly_ write in her letter to Thalia. There are too many words, and yet not enough at the same time. She peers back at Nico when she catches him smile widening under the sunlight, relaxed. “I hear you got yourself a boyfriend.”

Nico blinks in confusion.

“Percy mentioned it,” Reyna explains, and then Nico nods his head once, with an, _ah._ “Will’s his name? The healer?”

“Will Solace.” Nico nods, and his eyes narrow at the paper cup cradled gently in his hands. “Hazel mentioned it too. She didn’t seem…shocked.”

“Did you expect her to be?”

“No,” Nico admits. He leans backwards uncomfortably. “Just that word. _Boyfriend._ I have a hard time wrapping my head around it. Will said I’d get used to it eventually, but…”

He trails off, glaring at the lid of his coffee cup, and Reyna’s immediate reaction is to place a hand on his.

“You’re okay,” she reassures him. “What matters is that he makes you happy.”

Under her grip, Nico seems to relax a little more. He sets his cup down and flashes her a grateful look. “He makes me happy. For the most part. Jason said I should go at my own pace with…being out. With how comfortable I feel, doing…stuff.”

He glows pink and wrinkles his nose and Reyna can’t help but find it endearing. She decides not to fluster Nico more by asking what _stuff_ means. “He’s right. So long as you like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” Nico mumbles, and he fiddles with his cup, turning a little more red.

This time, Reyna can’t help but laugh.

“He catches me off guard sometimes,” Nico mutters, his voice still not above a whisper. “Sometimes it’s okay. Other times, I just…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, instead looking up with discomfort that lets Reyna know that it’s time to change the subject. _Having_ a boyfriend, much less saying the word aloud is still too overwhelming for him. Reyna can’t help feeling concerned, but decides to shelve it for another day, when Nico’s ready to talk about it.

“Jason was here yesterday,” Reyna says instead. She doesn’t know if the change in topic is more suitable.

Nico flicks his finger under the plastic lid of his cup, raising his gaze to her for a brief second. “He was?”

“He went straight to Temple Hill to compare his sketches to the empty hilltops,” Reyna recounts. “Hazel seemed puzzled. Apparently the two of you commune with the dead often?”

The smile that he shows catches Reyna off guard. His eyelids flutter low for a second, and he tucks a leg under his chin, amusement falling across his features. “You know how serious he is. He wanted firsthand accounts of ghosts who’ve actually met these gods and goddess. Details about what the minor deities have said in order to best capture their essence.”

Reyna almost doesn’t hear him. She’s fixated on the way Nico looks more relaxed now than talking about his boyfriend. How Nico looks more interested and contemplative. “He’s always been considerate. It’s what I like most about him.”

If she’s not mistaken, Nico’s smile wanes just the tiniest degree—but his lips still lift for New Rome’s old praetor. “Yeah. He’s very considerate.”

“Something wrong?” she asks.

Nico raises his gaze to look at her, reluctant for a moment, but concedes. “Jason and I…he…used to come by a lot so we could talk about shrines and temples. Piper was never interested in talking about it.” He wrinkles his nose again and rolls his eyes so animatedly that Reyna doesn’t recognize it. “He _always_ acted differently when she was around. He said he liked coming to my cabin because he could think clearly.”

Reyna doesn’t miss it this time. Nico’s skin is so pale that when it flourishes pink, he looks like a rose blooming in the springtime.

“But he stopped coming by when Will and I started talking,” he mutters, “And then Piper and he broke up, and they both left.”

Nico’s lips press into a straight line, and he glares weakly at his coffee cup.

“He didn’t even say goodbye to me,” he says, “I thought—after all the nights that we spent together—he’d at least do that.”

Reyna assesses all of it. The irritation in Nico’s voice, the way the corner of his lip etches into a frown, and the way his eyes seem dimmer. “Nico, do you like Jason?”

The coffee cup shrivels in Nico’s hand, hot cocoa sloshing through the tiny mouthpiece as he winces. He glares at his cup more furiously this time, his jaw clenched so tightly that Reyna’s own heart hurts.

“No,” he says, but he sounds like he’s talking to his hot chocolate more than her. “I can’t like him.”

“Because of Will?”

He doesn’t answer. Nico looks like he has his hot cocoa in a death grip, ready to send it to Hades, and he leans back in his seat again. “Because falling for Jason would be like having a crush on Percy.”

_Falling for Jason_ and _having a crush_ feel like two different concepts to Reyna, but she decides not to ask. Nico looks miserable all over again, but it’s different from the annoyance he’d given at the mention of his own boyfriend. There’s depth there.

“Because of Piper,” Reyna concludes. “But they broke up.”

“And then he left me,” Nico finishes, and there’s a bitterness to his tone that Reyna thinks he doesn’t even see. He looks back up to her and shakes his head, clearly wanting to move on from their current subject yet again.

“Did you ever think he might like you back?” Reyna asks. She’s surprised at his next, tired smile. He looks forward, as though rereading lines a script that he’s rehearsed thousands of times.

“How could he like me back,” Nico asks, “when he’s only ever shown interest in Piper? In girls?”

Reyna doesn’t know what to say. She wonders how Nico can look so annoyed and indifferent about his own boyfriend, yet smile at the mention of Jason’s name. How Nico can grimace with discomfort at this Will Solace’s gestures and still look so heart wrenched about her oldest friend.

“I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment,” Nico continues quietly. He shakes his head and pushes hair out of his face. “Not like I did with Percy. I don’t want to make things awkward between us. I mean—Will already tells me when I’m being weird with other people. I don’t want to make things weird with Jason, too.”

“It sounds like you’re already disappointed because he left,” Reyna points out. She hates the look that he gives her, more troubled than before. He looks like that doubtful boy that came out of the woods on the last night of the Giant War, when she hugged him. “I’m still here for you. Whenever you need me.”

She hugs him now, too. Nico lets out a sigh and buries himself in her arms.

*

Connor wakes up to the sound of a knock on the door of Cabin Eleven. He rolls out of bed, wanders across the cabin full of slumbering kids, and opens the door. He smiles through his drowsiness when he sees who it is. “Nico, hey.”

“Hey, Connor.” Nico smiles uneasily, and Connor takes in the son of Hades briefly. Nico’s hair is tousled in an unending bedhead, and he’s wearing the band t-shirt and penguin slippers that Connor and Travis had gotten him for Christmas. There’s a way his shoulders concave and eyes wander everywhere but forward that concerns Connor.

“What’s up?” Connor asks.

Nico’s smile fades only moments later, and he fiddles with the tail end of his shirt.

Connor thinks better to close the cabin door behind him and shudders under the light January snow.

“Do you think you could spend the night with me?” Nico asks quiet, and his gaze remains at the ground. In the singular moment that Nico raises his eyes, Connor sees an unsurmountable amount of worry that wakes him up. “I’m having nightmares again. Like before.”

“Oh—yeah, man.” Connor doesn’t hesitate.

They make the short trek to Cabin Thirteen, and Connor briefly thinks back to the ten-year-old boy who’d been vibrant and full of life the moment he came to Camp Halfblood. The one who wore his heart on his sleeve—and was quickly reduced to tears the first time he had a nightmare premonition. Demigod nightmares are like the worst demigod initiations ever—and they’re worse alone. Cabin Eleven had quite a few of them after their big brother left, and the demigods that went unclaimed woke up feeling even more lost.

Nico’s not that little boy anymore—the one that Travis and he would take turns ushering to their beds to help with the nightmares—but Connor knows better than to leave _anyone_ by themselves. They see too many new demigods who are scared and anxious after their satyrs guide them to camp. Nowadays, if they’re lucky, they’re claimed quickly and find solace with other siblings around Camp Halfblood or even New Rome.

“Not that I’m complaining—you know I love you man—” Connor says, and he nestles happily in the one coffin bed that survived Nico’s makeover, “—but how come you didn’t ask Will?”

Nico gets this uneasy flicker in his eye—the one that appears every time Will calls attention to them around the campfire or the Mess Hall or the med bay. Connor doesn’t know how Solace can’t read Nico’s moods. He thinks for a doctor, Will’s pretty stupid.

“Will doesn’t get me,” Nico whispers quietly, “not when it comes to nightmares.”

“What do you mean?”

“He just doesn’t,” Nico continues, and he shakes his head. Red glows in his cheeks, and Connor can see it even from his coffin. “He just wanted to cuddle. And other stuff.”

“Do you not want to cuddle and _‘other stuff’_?”

“No,” Nico says earnestly, and there’s a tight embarrassment in his tone. “Not in this instance. He thought it’d be better to focus on something else. Something other than people dying, but—that doesn’t make the nightmares go away. I still have them. And I shake too much in my sleep, so he doesn’t sleep well either. It ruins his focus in the infirmary.”

“You’re having nightmares of someone dying?” Despite the shyness in Nico’s tone, Connor narrows his insight on the middle of the sentence. He hears Nico turn to the other side of the mattress and curl into a ball. “Who, Nico? Bianca?”

“No,” Nico says quietly. “Bianca’s spirit has already moved on.”

Even now, five years later, Nico always sounds like he’s trying to remind himself rather than other people. Every time Connor has thought about Bianca di Angelo and her death, he thinks about how easily it could’ve been Travis or any of their other siblings. Luke’s death still makes his chest hurt. He thinks back to the look that Nico had given back at Cabin Eleven, and how the soul crushing sadness is almost an echo of before when ten-year-old Nico woke up from nightmares about his sister.

“Who, Nico?” Connor runs through the list of people that are finally nice to Nico di Angelo again. Percy? Annabeth? Will?

“Jason,” Nico says after a heavy silence.

“Oh,” is all Connor can say. Jason. Jason Grace, that Jupiter kid that _graced_ (haha) their presence two winters ago and then spent six months hanging out with Piper McLean and Leo Valdez, the new head counsellors to Cabin Nine and Ten. He didn’t have much of an opinion of them back then.

Around the time they all came back, Nico looked a little happier and Jason Grace looked like he was walking around with that stick a little less up his butt, so who was Connor to judge? Maybe they bonded over big sisters who abandoned them.

And they were close. Jason Grace smiled even brighter around Nico than he did around McLean (Connor _totally_ saw that breakup coming) and they’d always be sitting together or lingering or—Connor looks around the darkness of the room quickly and thinks he sees a Camp Jupiter sweatshirt that’s definitely two sizes too big for Nico. He’s one hundred-percent sure that Will Solace has yet to step foot in New Rome.

“Have you guys talked?” Connor asks, and the room is so deafeningly silent that he’s unsure if Nico’s fallen asleep.

“No,” Nico mutters quietly.

Another silence follows, and Connor makes sure to lean forward, to hear whether or not Nico is breathing more softly in the darkness or some snoring or something. He knows Nico used to talk in his sleep when he was younger—is that the case now?

“I didn’t know that when I got a boyfriend,” Nico says, “I’d lose my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Connor jokes, and the corner of his mouth lifts as Nico laughs quietly.

“You’re different,” Nico says. Different from Will, different from Jason. Connor can hear it in Nico’s voice, but he wonders if Nico knows.

Frankly, when Will let the whole camp know that he was taking Nico di Angelo out on a date, Connor and Travis were both surprised. Compared to how freely Jason Grace and Nico hung out on Halfblood Hill, talking about nerdy god stuff or spent late nights in Cabin Thirteen, Nico seemed irritated that all eyes were suddenly. Not that Connor can blame him—Will kind of hated Travis and Connor after they swapped his stethoscope with a Fisher Price toy three summers ago. And for putting itching powder in Clarisse’s armor (she totally deserved it) and putting peanut butter in his siblings’ quivers (that was harmless!) 

“The nightmares I have,” Nico continues out of the blue, his voice hoarse. “This emperor, Caligula. I think he’s someone that Apollo is going to face soon.”

It doesn’t take long for Connor to connect the dots. “You think Jason’s going to die protecting Apollo.”

“He can’t,” Nico insists, and the tightness returns in his voice. But he doesn’t say _won’t die._ Jason _can’t_ die.

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Communications are down.”

“What about, you know, shadowtravel?”

“I don’t know if he wants to talk to me.” Nico sounds ten again, confused as to why his big sister would choose to leave him at Camp Halfblood and start a life elsewhere. He laughs at nothing in particular, and it sounds sour. “I don’t even know what school he went to.”

The frustrations are the same. Why did Bianca leave? Why did Jason leave? Why did Bianca join the huntresses? Why did Jason go to Pasadena?

“I keep trying to reach him in my dreams,” Nico admits quietly, and there’s frustration in his voice. “But—the time zones. Every time I think I get close, I—” He comes to a halt in his sentence. “Will wakes me up to help him in the med bay. It’s part of trying to keep me on a routine. To keep me healthy.”

“I can’t really argue with trying to keep you healthy, Neeks,” Connor tells him, and he feels the pain and irritation that’s built since Nico ran away from Camp Halfblood the first time.

Nico falls silent. “Will wasn’t too happy when I pointed out that his dad had a death aura around him. He told me it wasn’t good social etiquette.”

“Will’s not the best with words, either,” Connor retorts. “Seriously, who wants to talk about the proper way to dress a third-degree burn? Talk about a mood-killer.” He thinks he hears Nico laugh again—just a quiet little chuckle under the darkness before Nico’s voice seems to drop again.

“I don’t want Jason to die,” Nico says. “But if it’s not Jason…” His voice trails off.

“Then it’s Apollo,” Connor finishes for him, he has a better understanding of why he’s in Cabin Thirteen and Will isn’t. He wonders if Nico and Will have talked about this—and if it’s become a point of contention. Maybe that’s why Will isn’t here now, or why Will would rather do _other stuff._

“I know it won’t be Piper,” Nico mutters quietly, and Connor hears the anguish in his voice. Nico had explained once that Jason seemed like a different person around Piper, rolling his eyes, but he was too polite to really elaborate back then. “Jason won’t let her die.”

Connor doesn’t know what to say. The Hermes Cabin had marched proudly with Luke’s banner when their big brother redeemed himself. Travis and he held hands, hoping to the Gods that for all the bad that Luke caused to the world, Hades would let the good outweigh it. He lays across from Hades’s son now, hearing him sound as certain about death as he does scared.

“Nico,” Connor says quietly, and he raises from his coffin. “Whatever happens, Travis and I are here for you. You have us this time.”

He wants to say that Nico had them back then, too, but he doesn’t know how he would have acted if Travis died instead. Sure, Connor has the rest of his siblings, but Travis and he share a mom, like Nico and Bianca did.

He’s not sure if it’s a sigh of relief he hears. Nico doesn’t seem happy in his place in his relationship with Will (who totally isn’t relevant right now) or feel better about the possibility of Jason Grace dying. Leo Valdez is alive now, and Nico still carries that weird scroll-recording around out of guilt, as a reminder of Hades’s words: some deaths are unavoidable. Even the ones you want the least. (Morbid thought, but it’s not like Connor wanted Luke to die, either.)

“Thank you, Connor,” Nico croaks. He doesn’t cry. Connor thinks Nico’s trying his damnedest not to.

*

Jason dies.

It all happens in a blur. One moment, they’re celebrating that Leo is alive—the next, Apollo, Lavinia, and Hazel are hauling a hard, mahogany coffin through the Caldecott Tunnel. Apollo tries to explain himself the best he can in a shaky voice. Caligula. A premonition from the oracle, weeks ago, before Lester Papadopoulos was a thought in anyone’s mind. Piper or Jason. _Jason,_ because there’s no way he would ever let it be Piper.

He’d known for weeks, Apollo explains.

_I just hope I can build the temples_ , Reyna recalls Jason saying, his eyes filled with sadness as he looked at Temple Hill for the last time.

He knew.

When Thalia arrives in New Rome, she separates herself from her huntresses. She isn’t Artemis’s Lieutenant. She’s the daughter of Zeus, big sister of Jason Grace, and she cries in Reyna’s praetor house that night. She’s miserable and vulnerable in Reyna’s arms because she doesn’t want the rest of the world see. Much like her brother, Thalia keeps her emotions private in the face of her pack.

Right there in her praetor house, Reyna sees Thalia break.

“It’s not easy,” Thalia whispers in the crook of Reyna’s neck, her voice as gentle as Reyna has always remembered Jason’s voice, “losing him a second time. I wasn’t there for him then, either.”

“You have your pack,” Reyna tells her.

“He was my _first_ pack,” Thalia croaks, and Reyna knows.

She had a pack too, with her father and Hylla. With the many servants at Circe’s Island, with the crew of pirates she sailed the seas with. She had Hylla with her in those packs, and parting ways with her big sister was the hardest decision she ever made. But was also the best one. She was happier with her life in New Rome.

“He died with honor,” Reyna tells her quietly. “New Rome will always remember him as a hero.”

Thalia’s sobs quiet down, and they sit on Reyna’s couch, touching in any form that they can. Thalia buries her head in Reyna’s shoulder, her freckled face red and ragged with grief, and Reyna holds her hand to ride out the waves anguish.

Reyna knows that first thing in the morning, Thalia will go back to being the huntresses’ valiant leader. Right now, she needs to be anything but. She needs to mourn the loss of the only boy she still loved after swearing an oath.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t see each other in better circumstances,” Reyna whispers softly.

Thalia peers back up to Reyna, her eyes a fissured blue compared to their normal, vivacious hue. Then, she raises her head and kisses Reyna—soft and tender for someone as wily as Thalia, daughter of Zeus. It catches Reyna off guard—no one really does that in the way Thalia Grace can.

When Thalia pulls away, her eyes are serious, glinting in a haunting way that looks like a gateway to her old life.

“I didn’t want to die on the battlefield,” Thalia whispers, “without ever doing that.”

She smiles briefly, pained and small, and reaches for her quiver to leave. Reyna’s hand flies out without a second thought, and she kisses Thalia back.

A rush of emotions flood Reyna all at once. For all of the brazenness that Thalia has, her lips are soft as the imprint of her name in their letters. Reyna thinks about the many hours that she traced the indent of Thalia’s words beneath the tips of her fingers, and she uses those same hands to trace every bit of the _real_ Thalia.

_I want to see you_ , Thalia had told her.

There were so many words, and so little at the same time each time Reyna tried to write a letter. Actions are easier. _Kissing_ is easier, tracing the freckles on Thalia’s face is _easier_ than any word that Reyna ever tried to write.

It’s one light moment in the darkness that shrouds Jason Grace’s death, and in that instance, it feels like a beacon.

When they pull away, Reyna is still cradling Thalia’s face between her hands, and Thalia guards them with her own palms.

“What does this mean?” Thalia whispers.

Reyna touches her forehead to Thalia’s. In the brief moment, she feels a moment of clarity—enough to finally write the response she couldn’t find weeks ago. “It means I don’t want to go another day without seeing you, either.”

She swears an oath to Diana the next day. For all the doubts and fears she had about the meaning behind Thalia’s words, Reyna _never_ wants to be apart from Thalia ever again. She doesn’t want to live in regret, should Thalia or she die, too.

*

_Frank_ , the top of the letter says.

_Thank you for taking the weight of praetor off my shoulders._

_Shine bright._

The very last sketchbook that Frank reads through for Jason’s temples is more personal than the others. He sees clumsy sketch of a boar, a vulture, and a dog that were Greek symbols for his father, shed when Ares became Mars, and when Rome held the God of War as the guardian of soldiers, too.

Little Greek influences, from Jason’s time at Camp Halfblood.

Frank traces Jason’s signature at the end of the letter.

He knew, Apollo had said. Jason knew he would die. And like a Roman soldier, he sacrificed himself for the sake of the pack, even when he no longer considered himself Roman.

The words are so succinct. The little sketches are clumsy (Frank wonders if Jason spent his time after the Giant War practicing how to draw, studiously focused on making every temple perfect before presenting them to the Senate), but Frank can see that he tried to clean up every sketch until it was perfect.

For all of the delicate work and time and effort that goes into Jason’s sketches, Frank makes sure the temples get built in one weekend. He goes through the multiple pages, where Jason seems to have retraced each statue, each shrine, and each temple until they’re clean and perfect. He even rewrote the notes he has scribbled in the corner, while trying to figure out new ideas.

Frank thinks that Jason must have redrafted his drawings a thousand times for a final presentation. Everything before the final draft feels more intimate—like Jason wrote out a thousand ideas before he could refine them for New Rome’s setting.

It pains Frank to see the new Temple to Neptune that Jason wanted to erect, after their temporary Greek praetor restored honor to the Fifth Cohort despite knowing Roman traditions for only a week.

It pains him more, looking at the Temple to Minerva that Jason adamantly sketched out—tracing and retracing in a dozen different attempts on different pages. On the second to last draft, Frank stares at the note in the top corner.

_What would Annabeth do?_

_What would Annabeth think?_

_~~Does Annabeth trust me yet?~~ Earn it. _

Frank thinks back to Annabeth’s proclamation—of being unable to associate Jason with Thalia Grace, a person that Annabeth knew much more intimately. Having seen Thalia now, Frank agrees that Jason and she look nothing like. There’s a cold hollow stare that makes Frank wonder if it existed before Jason’s death. Reyna used to revel in the stories of how different Jason and Thalia were, after combatting both. Her eyes always seemed brighter when she talked about Thalia, even when she tried to remain regal and proper.

It's why she left, and why Hazel became praetor, even if Frank can’t help feeling despondent about it.

He’s proud of Hazel for making it to praetor. He’s relieved that Leo is alive and well. But he’s sad that Jason is dead, and that feels like it outweighs every other emotion.

Jason’s one small note about Annabeth’s trust is the only thing Frank sees that wasn’t erased or whited out. For some reason, instead of sketching to perfection, Jason decided to leave the crossed-out question, inked in starch black so he could look at it every time he opened his book to the final draft of Minerva. There’s a letter next to Jason’s drawing, intended to Annabeth—or maybe never intended at all.

Frank sees Annabeth’s name and decides that it’s too personal. He sees letters addressed to all of them—varying in different lengths. Frank skims a line from Piper’s by accident— _I’m sorry I wasn’t better_ —and sees that Jason’s neat handwriting etches at least half a page. He sees one addressed to Leo—who was here only weeks prior—and catches the words _—I wish we saw each other one last time._

So many apologies, so many regrets that feel personal and raw next to the pristine ideas that Jason wanted to honor his friends’ godly parents with.

Frank turns the page, and his hand pauses.

_Ask Nico for his opinion_

The drawing is smeared.

Frank sees the unidentifiable image of a goddess surrounded by flowers—but he’s taken aback by the lack of finality in the lines, like Jason started drawing without real thought. The graphite is unclean across the paper, dark and fuzzy.

But asking for Nico’s opinion is underlined three times.

He turns the page again, expecting to see cleaner lines and a perfect image for a final draft. All that stands out to him, in crisp black ink is, _Nico notes._

Frank keeps flipping. The sketches are more earnest, and the date in the top corner of each page only echoes the days before Jason’s impending death, like he was struck by inspiration right before he was stabbed by Caligula (Frank winces.) They’re smudged and messy, but they remind Frank of the little message Jason wrote in his second-to-last draft of the Shrine to Minerva: heartfelt and intimate.

_Ask Nico_

_What would Nico do?_

_How did Nico imagine this?_

_Nico_

_I wish I didn’t tell you to go_

_I dreamed about you again_

_I wish I said yes_

_I wish I didn’t leave_

_I don’t want to die._

Frank freezes, and the back of his throat dries. He stares at the page, where the paper seems wrinkled and blemished in little, dried bubbles. There’s no question as to what it is. What they were. He traces the _d_ in Jason’s words, where black ink is smeared against the sketchbook paper.

There’s a letter on the next page, filled with the same scribbles and mottled ink. Frank doesn’t need to think about the regret or fear that was running in Jason’s mind leading up to his death. He sees it with each stroke of black, each stain of dark ink against wrinkled paper, and the little rivets where this last sketchbook was the only thing to catch their old praetor’s tears.

The very last page has no picture—no spark of an idea from their son of Jupiter. Just words.

_I miss you_

Frank doesn’t need to guess who the words are meant for.

For all of the emotions he’s felt in this past weekend—pride for Hazel, relief for Leo, remorse for Jason—he only feels worse, for being right about Jason Grace and Nico di Angelo.

*

No one sees Nico for days.

Apollo returns to Camp Halfblood not too long after his first visit, his mortal face looking more worn, more human. Jason Grace is dead, he says, but Connor already knew. He knows that Nico isn’t away from camp. That Nico is sequestered in Cabin Thirteen, welcoming only loneliness in his heart.

He did this before too, Connor thinks. Nico grew deathly quiet on the days closer to Percy’s return. He stopped climbing into Travis and Connor’s beds each night, and instead curled into a ball, in his little fort of a bed. Nico tried to press pause on those days. If he pressed pause, Bianca never died, and Percy couldn’t return to say the words aloud.

Nico’s trying to press pause now, so he doesn’t have to hear the words come from Apollo’s mouth. With all of the nightmares in slumber, nothing hurts than hearing the words. Connor sees from afar how Lester Papadopoulis’s face shrivels with a human pain as he mourns the loss of his brother, and how his own children must help him back to his feet.

And Connor can only wonder—if this is how a god reacts from knowing Jason Grace for a week, how does Nico feel, knowing Jason for much longer? Much more intimately? 

Will has a hard time focusing too. As Lester prepares for his next quest, Will paces across the exterior of Cabin Thirteen, often with trays of food in his hands. Apollo/Lester looks on with worry, confused as to why the cute couple that was introduced to him only weeks ago is now struggling, and he needs them. He needs both of them.

At some point, Connor gets tired of watching Will trade out uneaten trays of food with a fresh sandwich, tired of hearing Will shout at the door so his words can reach Nico from the other side. He gets tired of hearing the things that Will’s shouting, too.

So, Connor waltzes up to the porch—the black obsidian and gemstone encrusted columns—and places a hand on Will’s shoulder. Will startles—and despite the many camp beads around his neck that are almost a duplicate of the ones around Connor’s, they stare at each other as acquaintances. _Friends of friends_ —or, in this case, two people over time who’d grown to care about the boy on the other side of the door over time.

“Son of the god of thievery, man,” Connor explains lightly. “Let me try.”

It doesn’t take long to pick the lock. Jake Mason’s told Connor how anything mechanical can be altered by a child of Hephaestus—they shift the gears, they can sense wires, all that jazz. Connor’s better with good ol’ lockpicking—and for all the mischief and troublemaking stigma that comes with, even Will Solace sighs with relief when they hear a click.

“Jason saved my dad, Connor,” Will says quietly before Connor can open the door all the way. There’s a conflict on his face—one that can’t be solved by wrapping an ACE bandage over it and waiting for the wound to go away. “I didn’t want him to die—I never want any of them to die.”

“Of course not,” Connor agrees, and he thinks of all of the kids who started at Cabin Eleven and left because they were never claimed. The ones that died because they were so angry. Thinks about his big brother Luke, and how he and Travis never wanted to inherit the title of head counsellor because their brother was angry and betrayed the gods. Being a demigod is hard. Will and Connor were _both_ in wars, and while they cared for Nico di Angelo in different ways, they both understood the heartache that came with it.

There were always more lives that Will couldn’t save with his healing than could. Will puts a lot of importance in trying to prevent that.

“There may be more deaths,” Will says, and he’s not wrong. Every time Camp Halfblood sees any growth, it shrinks smaller with each passing summer. It’s a numbness that Will has—some way to dissociate from the morbidity.

He’d been promoted quickly after the deaths of both his brothers, Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew. The tide of the war was so strong that he had to focus on healing others over mourning. Maybe that’s why he focused on healing over death, because at least that’s something that helps prevent it. Will made himself get over the death of his brothers and healing their fallen soldiers helped them win a war.

Will has this look on his face. Like, _of course_ he’s sad for Jason Grace’s death, but there’s more relief that his father alive. Apollo is humbler, more paternal as he looks at Cabin Seven. Will has Jason to thank for that, just like he has Jason to thank for Nico agreeing to go out on that first date.

But he’s focused on a different aspect, and Connor’s not the least bit surprised.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Will says. There’s frustration in his voice. There’s a reason why he’s shouting at the door, unable to find the right words.

“Let me take a swing,” Connor says, and he claps a hand on Will’s shoulder in a way that’s probably too familiar.

“But he’s _my_ boyfriend,” Will protests.

“He was my responsibility first,” Connor points out. He makes his way into the cabin and shuts the door behind him. Luckily, Will isn’t as adept as Connor is when it comes to locks.

Nico sits as still as a statue on his round, patterned rug. His back is to the front door, and the only light that adorns the room comes from rays that peak through the blinds. He’s numb and solemn, staring onward at the coffin bed that Connor now regrets ever putting in Cabin Thirteen for _Underworld glamour._

“Hey, Neeks,” Connor says quietly. He sits beside Nico, only inches away. He’s there, like he said he would be.

Nico doesn’t move. He’s in a trance, staring at the black-wooded coffin bedframe with tired eyes and a small, disheveled frame.

“I saw him,” he says, his voice hoarse, “getting judged.”

Connor doesn’t need to ask who _him_ is. He’s been preparing for it ever since Nico knocked on his door in early January, and he’s ready this time. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” Nico whispers softly, and his composure slips, just a little as he trembles. He lowers his head, shaking it at the rug under their feet. “Nothing less for the Golden Boy of New Rome.”

“Hey, I think he was Greek, too. Helped us win a couple of Capture the Flag games, if you remember,” Connor whispers back, and he watches as Nico’s lips press into a shadow of a smile before Nico’s body falters and shakes. 

“A child of Greece and Rome,” Nico mutters under his breath. “One of a kind.”

One of a kind. There’s only one Jason Grace, and only one person like that for Nico.

Connor digs into his coat pocket and pulls out the M&Ms he usually saves for his father. He tears open the package and holds out a red piece. Nico looks down with dull, tired eyes and plops it into his mouth, slowly chewing it. Then, Nico concedes and holds his hand out for another one.

“He sacrificed himself,” Nico says quietly as Connor plops a second one in his hand. “Like Bianca. Like Leo.”

“Valdez came back.”

“Jason won’t,” Nico affirms. There’s so much sureness in his voice, even as it shakes.

“Yeah, but you can summon him—”

“He’s at peace now.” Nico sets the M&M down, unable to place anymore food past his lips. His eyebrows shrivel, his jaw tight. The little movements make him look less like the statue that Connor found moments ago. More animated, less dead. “I can’t…I can’t go down there. He knew what he was doing. When he…”

He swallows hard, and Connor sees a glossiness over Nico’s eyes for the briefest moment before Nico blinks it away. Unable to voice the words, Nico gestures to the door instead. Somewhere out there is Apollo, waiting to take on the next quest to end this war.

“What did he look like?” Connor asks. He tries to picture Jason Grace standing in front of a court of judges and trying to figure out his fate. The concept of an _afterlife_ feels so vague, but Nico’s words make it real.

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out,” Nico admits. His throat constricts. “I left. If I stayed down there, I’d…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. His eyebrows knit together again, the look so troubled on his face that all Connor can see is the ten-year-old boy wishing for his sister to stay alive.

“Stay here,” Connor tells him. “You have a place here. A _literal cabin._ ”

Nico lets out a quiet sob, his demeanor breaking for a brief moment—but he doesn’t cry. He presses a hand to the rug, his eyes raising to meet Connor’s, and the whites of his eyes are rimmed red. The gray lines around his eyes are already darkening again, from countless nights trying to fight off bad dreams and evenings of just sitting here, quietly grieving alone.

“We’ll need you here,” Connor insists. “Will needs you in the infirmary. And Travis will be back for spring break so we can spend the entire time planning pranks for the Ares Cabin. We’ll need a getaway, so Clarisse and Sherman don’t pummel us into the ground. And Percy and Annabeth and Cabin Eleven can fight over you for Capture the Flag.”

Nico peers up uncertainly, the confusion a new emotion compared to the grief from earlier.

“You have people here, Nico,” Connor reaffirms. “So stay.”

They weren’t there the first time when Percy broke the news to little Nico di Angelo. Connor still looks at the crack at the Dining Pavilion and wonders how a ten-year-old boy could cause that from grief and anger alone. Travis and he prayed to their dad to help Nico during his travels, but _surviving_ and _recovering_ are two different concepts, and Nico is still trying to work through the second one.

“I could use some water,” Nico says finally, and his voice cracks.

With a sigh of relief, Connor stands to his feet and is surprised as Nico reaches out with a hand, asking for help off the ground.

They open the cabin door, and the first thing Will does is throw his arms around his boyfriend. The cycle of emotions is so hard and fast that Connor feels bad for intruding.

“You need to eat more,” Will whispers in softly.

“Connor gave me some M&Ms,” Nico mumbles back, his voice quiet and hollow.

Will flashes Connor a grateful look, but the worry is still evident in his face.

Far off in the distance, Connor can see Lester standing to his feet, quiver slung over his back and ukulele in hand. He sees Apollo’s eyes narrowing in on the couple, nervously waiting to embark on their next quest. He looks back, and notices Nico staring straight back at the Sun God.

“About…Apollo,” Nico starts, his voice tired. “About how Jason died—”

“Later,” Will dismisses immediately. He pulls away and stare at Nico in concern. “Can I get you anything?”

Nico’s demeanor shrivels, even more tired than before, but he closes his eyes with defeat. Then sighs. “Water.”

Then, Connor watches as Will leads Nico to the Mess Hall, with Lester and Meg tailing after them, and leaving all thoughts of Jason Grace behind.

*

The war meets a messy end. They normally do, Frank’s learned. There’s no such thing as a _good_ war, just winning sides and losing sides. War is ugly, and sacrifices must be made. It’s what hurt so much about his mother laying down her life for her comrades, but Frank understands now. He understands more, burning bright to avenge Jason, and is grateful that his fate outlived the tinder Juno tied him to. Grateful that King Pluto still found his life worth living.

So he goes to his father’s temple, thanking him for guarding the soldiers that remained (the fleet so small that Frank thinks they could all fit into one building) and to protect their families, like Mars protected his grandmother. He wanders to Mars’ shrine every now and then, wondering just when the next war will strike. If they’ll be strong enough next time.

_We will be_ , Frank insists. He’s senior praetor now, with Reyna gone. And Frank wants nothing less than the strongest fleet. He had to grow from that grieving kid from Canada. At some point, they all do. Every time he falters with doubt, Hazel, his co-officer, is there to support him, and they lean on each other to regrow the Legion to its fullest strength.

In the evenings when their soldiers have lain to rest for the night, Frank walks through Temple Hill to inspect their newest shrines. It’s the first change that’s been made in a century to Temple Hill, redefining tradition in the way that Jason always wanted.

He stops short at the Temple of Bellona when he sees a familiar silhouette.

Nico doesn’t look up. He hears Frank’s quiet footsteps as the latter demigod moves. His eyes are fixated on the mound of dirt at Bellona’s feet, where a spear had been thrown one last time before battle. He glances upwards to the war goddess’s face, his gaze lingering.

“Hey, Nico,” Frank offers quietly. He tries to smile.

The edges of Nico’s lips lift, exhausted. “Hi, Frank.”

He lifts his head, and Frank’s chest hurts. He sees Nico’s disheveled hair, from many nights of tossing and turning with no avail. Dark lines streak below Nico’s eyes, like permanent shadows. His face is gaunt, and his clavicle protrudes against his skin. Nico doesn’t smile. The night sky makes his face look older, more tired.

Once upon a time, Nico used to scare Frank. But before that, Frank saw some poor kid who was unfortunate enough to have the King of the Underworld as his father—and that was it.

He thinks this poor kid, who looks exhausted and weary, is unfortunate to have to deal with the many deaths that arose in another war. A higher body count. More soldiers—more _kids_ —dead. It’s scary. But it’s reality.

“She left a couple of weeks ago,” Frank says softly.

“I know,” Nico whispers quietly.

They sit at the footsteps of the Temple of Mars. Nico stops just feet before the steps, eying the boar and vulture that were added around the War God. A Roman statue, thousands of years old, renovated in modern day to include tiny Greek symbols. To tweak tradition and show the unity between Greeks and Romans.

“Jason’s idea,” Frank explains.

“I know,” Nico says softly.

They sit in silence for a while. Nico’s taller now, but he still huddles like he’s on the mast of the Argo II. His eyes are haunted, his face is pale, and he looks like he’s forgotten to eat in the last couple of days. In a loose t-shirt and jeans, Nico looks even thinner. He surprises Frank but reaching into his pocket and pulling out a half-full bag of M&Ms.

“I hear Apollo’s a god again,” Frank says.

Nico nods wearily. He stares towards the many temples and shrines—the vibrant, new ones compared to the ones that have stood for centuries. “It was a thrilling adventure to be on.”

“You too, huh?”

He nods again, his movements slow.

“To think,” Frank says softly, “if Zeus had listened to Jason back in Athens, maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have started.”

Nico’s dark eyes turn a degree, and the shadows magnify the exhaustion across his face. “What do you mean?”

Frank goes on to explain what happened in Athens. How they banded together with their godly parents once the Athena Parthenos was secured at Camp Halfblood, and in the aftermath, they all stood before the King of the Gods, who wanted to cast blame on someone. To cast blame at Queen Hera and Apollo. How Jason tried to convince Zeus that punishment would be unwise, and Zeus seemed to latch onto that word, like it was a bold claim in front of his court.

“He never told me that,” Nico says quietly. His eyebrows knit together, and suddenly he casts a glance to the Jupiter Optimus Maximus, his hands holding the bag of M&Ms like a chokehold.

“Jason was a pretty private person,” Frank points out. He hesitates for a moment, his thoughts going back to the very last sketchbook that Jason got to draw in. “He wrote a lot of his thoughts down in his sketchbooks. Some of the notes, they…they feel really personal.”

Nico’s eyes remain on the Temple of Jupiter, his lips pressed into a firm line. “We used to talk all night about how he wanted to build the temples.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nico lowers his head, and then tucks his knees beneath his chin. The corners of his mouth lift again, just the tiniest degree, but his eyes seem dimmer. “Sometimes we wouldn’t even talk about temples. Sometimes we would just talk.”

Frank tries not to stare. The longer he stares, he thinks of all the little notes that Jason wrote about Nico—the notes that Jason intended for no one to see but himself.

“But I guess he was even more private than I knew,” Nico says quietly. He shuts his eyes, pressing a hand to his temple as though to pusher the sadness away.

Frank doesn’t think it actually works. “You’re a pretty private person yourself, Nico.”

Nico lifts his gaze slowly. At first, Frank wonders if Nico is going to scowl at him and melt into the shadows, to put an end to this conversation. Instead, he tilts his head into the moonlight, his eyes showing just how deeply he’s mourning.

“I think we’re all private in our own ways. It took me a long time to open up about my life being tied to a piece of wood,” Frank explains.

The edge of Nico’s lips twitches sadly, and something changes in his eyes. He looks onward again. “Jason was the first one who knew. About me.”

“About…?” Frank’s eyes widen as Nico stares at him with mild amusement. “Oh.”

“Since Croatia,” Nico explains softly.

Oh.

And suddenly, the final puzzle piece makes sense. The last puzzle piece is the very first one—the one that began the friendship of Jason Grace and Nico di Angelo. Nico explains Cupid. Not the specifics—just enough for Frank to decide that the love god is a terrible monster that chose no sides—including forcing Nico to out himself in front of someone he saw as nothing more than a temporary leader until Percy and Annabeth could close the Doors of Death. Hazel would totally punch the love god.

Jason’s glances at the mast made sense. Nico extending poison to see if Jason would actually take it made sense. Jason _always looking out_ for Nico from then on after Split made sense. What was one of the most violating moments in Nico’s life sparked Jason Grace’s determination to support the son of Hades at all costs.

“Reyna was the second one that knew,” Nico whispers, and he laughs humorlessly before shaking his head. “That wasn’t by choice, either.”

“Nico, I’m sorry,” Frank says softly, and his eyebrows contort together with worry. “Please tell me you were able to tell somebody else.”

Nico contemplates his words, and his grip across his bag of candy loosens slightly. “I told Percy and Annabeth. Reyna told me Percy blabbed about Will.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nico reassures, and he shakes his head. “I never worried about you and Hazel. And if it came from Percy, I know it’s because his heart was in the right place, even if his head wasn’t.”

“In this case it was his stomach,” Frank explains. “NRU gave him blue cookies.”

Nico chuckles again—just a quiet, defeated sound that comes from the back of his mouth, even of his lips don’t lift into a fulfilling smile. “I’m used to it by now. Word spread pretty quickly around camp that Will was taking _di Angelo_ on a date.”

“Your word?”

“His word,” Nico corrects. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed. Maybe a little tired, his eyes dimming just an inkling more at the confession.

“Well, do you want to tell me now?”

Nico turns his head and blinks in confusion. “What? That I’m gay?”

“Yes, and I accept you.”

In that instance, Nico’s eyebrows knit together, and his lips curl just a little bit less tensely. He chuckles again, soft and defeated—maybe a little bit lighter than before. It must be the first smile in days—weeks, even, since Jason’s death.

Frank takes the moment to whip out two protein bars from his person. He extends both of them out to the son of Hades, who stares at him once again in perplexity.

“Half a bag of M&Ms isn’t going to sustain you,” Frank explains. “Hazel says you’ll forget to eat sometimes. These are stressful times. I—” He makes a face, then decides that Nico won’t judge him. “—I lost my appetite for a while when my mom died.”

Nico stares at the protein bars skeptically, then mutters a quiet _thank you_ as he takes them. “You just carry these around with you?”

“Emergency rations,” Frank explains. “These days, you never know when you’re going to find yourself on a quest.”

The other demigod hums in agreement, slowly unwrapping the first protein bar. He sinks his teeth into it and chews slowly. Then, he falls silent.

“Jason knew,” Nico says.

They’re not _just_ talking about quests. “Yeah. I know.”

They all know.

Nico falls into another lull, his bites seeming to slow down with every passing minute. Then he frowns and presses a hand to his temple once more. “Sorry. I shouldn’t keep talking about his death.”

“What? No way.” Frank blinks in confusion and he can’t help but worry about the way that Nico instinctively closed up as they drifted back to Jason’s death. “Nico, it’s okay to mourn. Talking about my mom’s death is what helped me get through it.”

The other demigod hesitates. Nico lengthens his legs over the steps of the Temple of Mars. “A lot of people died during this war. Just like the last two. I made sure to see the oversee the burials over there. I would’ve come here, but—”

“We handled it,” Frank reassures. He smiles weakly. “You’d be proud of Hazel.”

Dark eyes stare back at him, but Frank has no idea what’s going on in Nico’s mind.

“It’s okay,” Frank reiterates, “if you want to mourn _Jason’s_ death.”

Nico makes a sound. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, as though he’s trying to dismiss whatever thought is needling his brain. “He did what he thought was right.”

“So did my mom. I—” Frank swallows thickly. “I was angry at her for a while.”

Nico peers back once more, his eyebrows shriveling together. Frank thinks that his face is a little more readable now. He thinks about the way Nico’s eyes seem to glisten as they look back to the Temple to Jupiter. Then, Nico peers back up. “My sister…my other sister. Bianca. She died doing what was right, too. She went into battle knowing that she wasn’t going to make it.”

A little wrinkle appears between his eyebrows.

“And when she died, I couldn’t understand why she did it. Why she decided to leave me alone _._ Then I spent the better part of a year trying to bring her back. I’m the _son of Hades._ Shouldn’t I have some control over that?” Nico’s voice is distant, sounding as young as when the thought first occurred. But he shakes his head, much older than his past. “I can’t control how she felt. She chose reincarnation. She left me a third time.”

He swallows thickly, but the pain on his face isn’t new. It’s a lingering emotion that Nico’s probably had for years.

“Mourning doesn’t go well for me,” Nico finishes. “Not for the people that I care about.”

“But…mourning your other sister is how you found Hazel, right?”

Nico turns his head.

“Hazel showed me her memories. How you went into the Fields of Asphodel and brought her back. You told Hazel that she deserved a second chance,” Frank says. “You’re the reason why she’s now with the Legion, and why she’s a high-ranking officer for New Rome now.”

Nico contemplates Frank’s words, and his demeanor softens. He looks back down to his half-finished protein bar. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Spend the night, Nico,” Frank says. “Hazel will be happy to see you.”

Nico seems stuck on that thought. He gives the Jupiter Optimus Maximus one last glance, then nods in agreement.

They make their way to the via principalis. Frank recalls that back in his ambassador days, Nico got a guest house to himself. At first, Frank thinks that Nico is going to default to Hazel’s house, but then he remembers that her house used to be Reyna’s. The way Nico’s eyes lingered on the statue of Bellona felt like an echo of when Nico was talking to Bianca—and it’s how he looks at the house now. Frank offers his guest bed instead.

He takes a banana from the kitchen as he’s explaining the overall layout to Nico—his small living room, his kitchen, his two bedrooms and two baths—and places the banana on Nico’s nightstand.

Nico plops onto the bed, shucking off his shoes and politely nodding to each of Frank’s explanations. Under the warmth of the lamp, he looks a little more alive—but also more tired. Yet he smiles, looking a little less withdrawn than before. “Thank you, Frank.”

“It’s no problem, Nico.” Frank thinks about all of the other accommodations he can make for his unexpected guest.

“I mean it,” Nico reiterates. His voice is soft as he meets Frank’s eyes. “Thank you for being a good boyfriend to Hazel. For letting her be herself.”

“Why wouldn’t I let her be herself? Because she’s a daughter of Pluto?” Frank blinks with confusion, and he thinks back to the first time he ever met Hazel and her strange brother. “It’s not your fault that your dad happens to be the King of the Dead. You and Hazel are the only reasons that we made it out of the House of Hades alive. Literally.”

The tightness of Nico’s expression surprises Frank. “Not all boyfriends would be as understanding as you are about the _dead_ part.”

Not all boyfriends…? “Is Will not comfortable with it?”

Nico averts his gaze once more, and he fiddles with his ring. “He’s concerned with how much I talk to the dead. How much I talk about death. He…thinks I’ve spent too many years on my own and that talking to ghosts have been bad for my social skills.”

He shuts his eyes, and then relinquishes a sigh.

“I needed to get away for a little while,” Nico confesses. “Even if New Rome is filled with as much loss as Camp Halfblood is right now.”

He looks _guilty_ , is all Frank can think. Guilty at the confession of needing a break. He thinks back to how quickly Nico apologized for circling back to Jason’s death earlier. “Stay as long as you need. It’ll make Hazel happy.”

Nico peers up with reluctant eyes and nods in agreement. There’s relief on his face.

“And Nico? I like talking to you.” Frank smiles gently. “Death or otherwise.”

Nico pauses, and he chuckles again, sounding just a little lighter. “Me too. Death or otherwise.”

They part with one last goodnight, and Frank makes strides towards the door.

“Jason was right to promote you,” Nico calls after him. “He was struggling with himself on the Argo II. I had a feeling something like that was going to happen after we left Notus. You’re a great leader, Frank.”

Frank smiles and casts one last glance behind him. “Thanks, Nico.”

He closes the door behind him with one last contemplation that makes his chest hurt.

Nico noticed at Jason on the Argo II just as much as Jason noticed Nico.

*

Nico stays until the beginning of spring break. He spends the weeks between late February to mid-March attending archery classes with Frank, and afternoons walking with Hazel as she monitors their sentries, prepared for another attack. When they’re too busy, Travis Stoll insists on sneaking him into New Rome University to listen in on classes.

They talk about Connor in extensive length—the lack of communication has been straining on the Stoll Brothers. Not that Connor ever mentioned it. He’d focused on reassuring the other young, unclaimed kids in Cabin Eleven that communications would be back soon. They’d be able to talk to their mortal parent _soon_.

Travis offers the same insight Connor had. They’re there for Nico. He feels like that ten-year-old kid again when Travis throws arms around him. Connor’s careful about Nico’s boundaries, but as the oldest brother of Hermes Cabin, Travis holds Nico like they’re still cabin mates. In the one week that Nico was unclaimed, he became their sibling. All of the walls that’d grown around Nico in his years as Hades’ son don’t seem to apply to the Stoll Brothers.

(Or maybe, like the many locks they picked, they invaded Nico’s space anyway, and Nico gladly welcomes it.)

He talks to Antoni, the barista from Reyna’s favorite café. Antoni gives Nico a free hot chocolate for each day he’s in New Rome—and never lets Nico pay. Nico walks the cobblestone steps, like he would with Reyna, to the Garden of Bacchus and enjoys his hot chocolate on their usual seat on a cement bench. Sometimes, Hazel joins him, holding his hand and talking about her day. Other times, Frank joins, and they invite him to Senate meetings again.

They meet Travis and stare in confusion as this son of Hermes breaks out a blueprint of the NRU Student Union to swipe as many snacks and knickknacks as possible to bring back to Long Island. Nico reassures the praetors that they’ll pay.

Nico doesn’t go to the Temple of Jupiter.

He doesn’t go to Jason’s grave.

It hurts too much.

Nico’s seen death before. He’s been on the other end of three wars now. But nothing makes it harder for him to breathe than thinking about Jason getting stabbed between the shoulder blades twice, in order for Meg, Apollo, and Piper to escape. Nothing makes him angrier than staring at the Jupiter Optimus Maximus, knowing that the King of the Gods chose to redeem one of his sons and not save the other.

Nothing hurts more.

Nothing’s hurt this much.

Not since Bianca.

*

Travis and Nico shadowtravel back to Long Island when spring break rolls around. Despite Nico’s halfhearted protests, both Frank and Hazel join him for the first weekend. He’d spent three weeks with them, so it’s only fair to spend at least a weekend at Camp Halfblood. They think he doesn’t notice the extra bits of food that they put on his plate, or the extra attempts to check up on him. Hazel’s hugs seem to linger a little bit longer, and evenings usually end with conversations with Frank. They notice him smiling easier, and Nico notices it too.

Besides—Percy and Annabeth will be back at Camp Halfblood for spring break. Communications have been down—and given the current circumstances, they should be together. To _grieve_ together. To not be alone.

Nico doesn’t have to be alone, he reminds himself.

His mood drops when they make it to Long Island. Nico sees Halfblood HIll, with Peleus wrapped delicately around Thalia’s tree, and the pain hits him hard. It drives a knife through his chest, making it every bit as hard to breathe as staring at the Jupiter Optimus Maximus did. As the very thought of Jason _dying_ does.

Hazel holds onto his hand firmly, and she smiles warmly. The gleam of her eyes makes it a little easier to breathe again. “Show me what you’ve done with our cabin, big brother.”

Each step to the cabins is harder for Nico. Camp Halfblood is a reminder of where he was when Jason died. Where he had to push the thought away and consider the burials. Where Cabin One is, and how elated Nico used to feel when Jason would give him that smile and whisper good night. His heart used to flutter, and he used to warn it stop. It hasn’t fluttered in a while.

Will spots him as they walk past the infirmary. “Nico!”

And Nico remembers why he left. He’s exhausted already, and he’s miserable that he feels that way.

Will comes up to Nico, his eyebrows knitted together, and nose scrunched. He glances inquisitively in Hazel and Frank’s direction.

“Will, this is my sister Hazel and her boyfriend, Frank.” Nico gestures to the two praetors, then he gestures back to Will. “Hazel, Frank, this is Will.”

Hazel arches a suspicious eyebrow in the air, and Frank extends a cordial hand.

Will is nice enough to pull off his rubber glove and shake it—but his attention falls back on Nico immediately. “We should talk.”

He doesn’t give Nico an option. Will grabs Nico by the wrist and yanks him into the med bay. There are a handful of people there at the mercy of the Hermes’ Cabin’s first wave of pranks. Connor’s there—probably at the mercy of a punch to the face. Probably from the Ares Cabin. He gives Nico a wave and Will rolls his eyes with exasperation. One of Will’s siblings—Kayla—looks up as they enter the room, and Nico’s stomach twists with discomfort.

“You can’t just disappear like that,” Will retorts, and his eyebrows furrow together with frustration.

Nico yanks his hand back, the irritation bubbling in his stomach. “I told you that I was going to visit my sister. Who you _just snubbed._ ”

“You were gone for _three weeks_.”

“I said that I might be gone for a little bit, Will,” Nico says. He massages his forehead, welcoming a headache as it pulses at the back of his mind. “You’re not my keeper.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend.” Will’s jaw tightens—and Nico looks briefly over to the Hecate Cabin member and Kayla, who look like they’re trying really hard not to listen in on this conversation.

“Do we have to do this here?” Nico asks warily.

Will glares back at him just as tiredly. “If I let you go now, how will I know you’ll actually come back?”

“Are you saying you don’t _trust_ me?”

“I don’t know!” Will shouts, and the starkness of his answer rattles Nico. Will waves his hands around angrily, his cheeks flushed with rage, and he desperately looks back at Nico. “You stopped letting me sleep over! You locked me out of your cabin for _three days_! You hardly talked to me on our quest with my dad, and you left for _three weeks_ and didn’t tell me!”

“I told Connor,” Nico retorts hastily, and he quickly looks back to the onlookers in the infirmary. His hands coil at his sides, and he tries his best not to look tense. Fails. It’s the worst that he’s felt in weeks, and he _hates_ it’s because it’s at Camp Halfblood. Because it’s with his boyfriend.

“Connor isn’t _me_ , Nico!” Will exclaims, and the pain in his voice makes Nico wince. “Just because I told you not to sing that hymn during the campfire singalong, you decided to _ghost_ me for three weeks?”

“It was a hymn to my father,” Nico snaps back. “To honor the fallen.”

“It was _creepy_.”

“It’s sung to help spirits crossover to the other side.” Nico lets out a sigh and shakes his head furiously. “Forget it. I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

He moves to leave, but Will side-steps him. “You don’t get to be angry here. I’m the one that was left.”

“I _told Connor_ to _tell you_ because I was _sitting next to Travis_! I _told you I was leaving_ before I left!” Nico protests—and before, he wanted to keep his frustrations in a quiet tone. The infirmary doesn’t need to know their business. He’s not trying to raise his voice now—he’s exhausted and frustrated and wants nothing more than just to sleep. Will’s the last person he wants to deal with right now.

“Nico, I know you haven’t had a boyfriend before, but this is _petty_ ,” Will snaps. “I was _worried_ about you. You don’t just do that.”

“ _Petty_?” Nico repeats.

“This is exactly like the orientation video again,” Will continues, and he glares. “When you got mad.”

Nico’s jaw tightens. “I got mad because you told me I was scaring the campers.”

“Because you _were._ ”

“You’re my _boyfriend_. Do you know how awful it feels to be put down by you?” Nico scowls. 

“ _Nico_ ,” Will says, and his face shrivels. “I’m sorry you got mad, but—”

“ _Sorry_ _I got mad_? _Again_?” Nico echoes, and the frustration leaks into his voice. “You don’t _listen_ to me, Will.”

“Nico, you don’t listen to _me_.”

Nico’s chest tightens. He raises his head furiously and is met with the same serious expression that Will’s given him as of late. It’s different from the first smile Will ever gave him—the one that made butterflies flitter in his stomach. Instead, he stares at the face that’s as tired as his own, his voice tight. “What?”

“All of this—the way you’ve been acting—it’s because of Jason’s death,” Will says, and his voice cracks. “He sacrificed his life and saved my dad. But he’s not the only one that _died_ , Nico. He helped my dad get his place back at Mount Olympus, and we have to move on.”

“Because Jason is— _was_ my friend,” Nico says, and he chokes. His vision grows blurry. “And you don’t seem to understand that.”

“Because you treat him like he was _more._ ” There’s jealousy in Will’s voice. They’d talked about it during their quest with Apollo, but Nico doubts that he remembers. “He’s not the only one who cared about you, Nico. And he’s gone. You need to move on—”

“You don’t get to tell me to move on,” Nico interjects. The anger explodes in his chest, and when he looks up, the first tear flies from his eyes. “Not from him.”

Will stares back at him, taken aback. Then his eyebrows furrow together again. “Nico, that’s not healthy—”

“ _No_ ,” Nico snaps, and the rage pulses in his chest. “Stop telling me how to feel!”

Again, Will’s eyes widen.

“Just stop,” Nico finishes, and his voice shrivels. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He doesn’t want to pretend he’s still riding the high of the beginnings of their relationship. The handholding that made butterflies soar in his stomach make him nauseous now. Maybe they _always_ made him nauseous, but it was for a reason he couldn’t see before. Will’s easygoing smile doesn’t erase the nervousness and anxiety Nico felt about fitting in anymore, but Will’s stopped _smiling_ at him since the premonitions of Jason’s death. Nico stopped holding his own smile a long time ago—maybe when Jason left without saying goodbye.

And Jason’s left _twice_ now. In life and to death. And Nico wants to get angry, but all he feels is _numb_ because Will keeps reminding him of all of the other people who’ve died, too. Because Will thinks it’s better to focus on healing the camp than it is to mourn.

“Do…this?” Will repeats. There’s shock in his voice. Concern. At some point, he was a sweet boyfriend, but the little things that bothered Nico seem magnified now. Will reaches out to grab his wrist. “Nico—”

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” Nico snaps—and that’s just what happens. He _snaps._

_All_ of the anger, since Bianca left—trying to find her, growing so attuned to his powers that he pushed everyone else way—comes out in waves. Dropping down in Tartarus, dragging himself out of the River Cocytus with a thousand whispers telling him he didn’t belong—he would _never_ belong. He feels the hatred against himself, watching as Percy and Annabeth falling into the depths of the Underworld, the _utter_ humiliation of being lain bare by Cupid, with Jason just standing there.

Jason.

_Gods_ , Jason, Nico thinks, and the tears roll down his face. The feels anguish he felt earlier when he looked at Thalia’s tree comes back. The palpitations he felt when he saw Cabin One in the distance—the anger that he felt, when Jason left without saying goodbye all _come back_. The _loneliness_ he felt— _feels_ —and the days he left his stomach barren as he was _haunted_ by the image of Jason standing before the judges of the Underworld, leaving him for a final time, just _hit him_.

They’re things that Will just doesn’t _understand_. That Will just keeps treating by dismissing it or putting an ACE bandage over, hoping it’ll just _go away_ , like a wound. Most wounds heal. But sometimes they leave scars, and scars are reminders of past pain. Scars can be as haunting as ghosts, and Bianca’s departure and death is the biggest scar that still remains over his heart. In this moment, Nico’s heart is open gash, stricken with as much pain as Caligula’s spear between Jason Grace’s shoulder blades. Stricken with the blow of coming to New Rome and finding out that he had a sister leave and join the huntresses _again._

Will’s hand recoils, his blue eyes wide—and all Nico can think about is how they’re not nearly as blue as Jason’s eyes. Will’s irises capture a sunny day, but they don’t hold the vast expanse of the clouds and stars and the entire sky the way that Jason’s did.

Instead, Will looks at him now, the same fear and concern on his face. He _looks_ at Nico, and for once, Nico thinks Will actually _sees_ him.

Not like when Nico said he wanted to take it slow, and Will let the news spread that they were going on a date so Nico could see he had nothing to worry about (he _hated_ it.)

Not like when Will introduced him as a boyfriend, when Nico could hardly work up the nerve to say the word himself.

Not like when Will kept grabbing his hand and just _telling_ him to _get used to it._

“I—” Will stares at him with wide eyes, and Nico sees the concern that sparked them all those months ago. “—I thought you were okay now. That you were getting over all of that.”

“How can I get over it when you _never let me talk about it?_ ” Nico cracks, and he laughs at himself. “About Tartarus, about how I feel about at camp, about Jason’s death—you don’t _listen_ to me!”

“Nico—”

“No!” Nico shouts, and the cold light of the infirmary flickers momentarily, showing as much darkness in the room as Nico feels in his own heart. “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m _done_ , Will.”

He melts into the shadows without looking at the reaction on Will’s face. He doesn’t _care_ anymore.

*

Nico appears outside of the infirmary. His pulse races. His heart aches. He looks up through blurry eyes, his breath coming out in thin shudders, and sees Frank and Hazel. Their easy looks from earlier—from the excitement of seeing Cabin Thirteen and Cabin Five again—are gone, and all he can see is worry in their eyes. Nico falters, his eyebrows knitting together in a face that he’s grown so used to making in the last couple of weeks, and he trembles.

“I don’t suppose you heard any of that,” he mumbles. It’s not a question. He _knows_ they’re standing there for him, like they have been since going to New Rome.

“Oh, Nico,” Hazel whispers gently. She throws her arms around him and the warmth makes Nico ache. He shakes even harder in her grasp, and he glances towards Frank, who has every bit of the same concern as he did on that evening at the Temple of Mars.

Connor comes trotting out of the infirmary with a bag of ice over his black eye. He’s been there, too—since day one, with his brother. Travis and Connor share a high-five. They’re quiet for once.

Then, Connor pipes in again. “I think I know what’ll make you feel better, Neeks.”

They abandon all intent of going to the cabins. Instead, Hazel holds Nico all the way to Zeus’s Fist while the Stoll Brothers play catch up from a semester and a half away from each other. They don’t turn around much.

“Oh, I’m Connor, by the way,” Connor says unabashedly as they make it to the top of the rocks. He flashes them a grin and extends a hand. “Hazel and Frank, right?”

The edge of Hazel’s lips curl into a smile.

“Frank and Hazel,” Frank reaffirms, and they shake hands.

“We took Nico here to scream once,” Travis explains, and he unzips the oversized backpack full of goodies. “Back when Bianca left.”

At the mention of his late sister’s name, Nico can feel Hazel and Frank exchange looks of concern. She doesn’t get mentioned much during their dinners together. Nico’s spent the last three weeks focusing on keeping his composure—and he _knows_ it’s better to move on. Knows he can’t change the past.

“Oh, yeah,” Connor sniggers, “we let him say _fuck._ ”

This time, Hazel and Frank blink.

“Bianca never let me swear,” Nico mumbles. He takes the blue Kool-Aid as Travis passes it over to him and notices the son of Hermes swiftly taking off all the price tags before the two praetors can see.

Despite the earlier concern, Frank laughs now in disbelief. “You brought Nico out here to _swear_?”

“Oh, no, no, he wouldn’t do it right away.” Travis waves his hand dismissively, then looks at Hazel. “You know, with this one being such a sweet kid and all.”

The other corner of Hazel’s mouth lifts.

“So we screamed first,” Connor finishes, and he taps his Kool-Aid to Nico’s. “Remember the screaming, Nico?”

“I screamed a lot,” Nico replies gruffly, and he watches as Frank and Hazel soak that fact in.

He remembers the week awaiting Bianca’s return. How quickly she found herself with the Huntresses, and how he felt alone without her. Nico didn’t know much about the war back then, but he knows that Travis and Connor became extra-doting big brothers because they’d lost one themselves. They’d seen countless unclaimed demigods at Cabin Eleven in their many years at camp. They went along with his interest in Mythomagic and even tried to show him a few more games. Even unclaimed, they helped him feel like he _belonged_ at Camp Halfblood _._

“Yeah, watch this—” Travis stands to his feet, cupping his hands to his mouth. “—I HATE MAYONNAISE!”

The words are so loud that they vibrate across the valley of rocks. Birds fly from the trees, and Connor throws his head back with a cackle. He gathers to his feet, mimicking his brother’s stance, and shouts at the top of his lungs, “I HATE SHERMAN YANG’S DUMB FACE!”

“Sherman’s your brother,” Nico explains to Frank, who makes a sound. This time, the Stoll Brothers are vibrating with glee, and both Hazel and Frank bite back smiles.

“C’mon—” Connor says.

“—you try!” Travis finishes.

So, Hazel and Frank stand to their feet, and Nico watches as the reserved composure of New Rome’s praetors breaks with amusement.

“I—UH—HATE SMELLY SOCKS!” Frank shouts, and he laughs.

“I HATE MORNING BREATH!” Hazel shouts and she dissolves into a series of giggles. Both the Stoll Brothers double over in laughter this time, reaching out to high-five New Rome’s praetors while sloshing Kool-Aid in their hands. Nico vibrates with them, especially as Frank makes an indignant sound and quickly covers his mouth to do a breath check.

“Nico, Nico—” Travis grins.

“—you try!” Connor slaps a hand across Nico’s back.

Nico’s chest feels lighter—like it did back in New Rome. He’s surrounded by his friends, soaking in their laughter as reprieve from his (final) fight with Will, and his jaw hurts from smiling.

But he stares at the drink in his hand, then to the setting sun on the horizon. Past the trees, he sees Thalia’s peeking out from the hilltop, and his heart aches. No matter the effervescence and the reprieve he’s felt in the last couple of weeks as Connor coaxed him out of his cabin, as Frank and he carried on their conversations, and as Hazel held his hand as they walked through New Rome—he still feels empty.

“I miss him,” Nico whispers instead.

He misses the way that Jason used to come to his cabin every morning to wake him up for breakfast. The way Jason would insist that he help with swordtraining classes. How they’d sit under the shade of Thalia’s tree under the summer heat, and Jason would accidentally splash a bit of his watermelon over his sketchbook when he got overly excited, and how they’d spend late nights talking in Cabin Thirteen when they ran out of daylight. He misses walking a sleepy Jason to Cabin One, when Jason’s gold glasses would be over his head, and every word was so tired and faint that Jason’s voice felt like a gentle breeze in Nico’s ears.

He misses Jason’s voice.

He misses seeing the stars in Jason’s eyes.

He misses Jason’s imperfect smile.

Nico misses Jason. _So much._

The gasp leaves his mouth before the tears fall over his hands. Nico exhales loudly for the first time—his throat _burning_ as he lets himself _breathe_. As he lets himself _feel._

Nico cries. His face shrivels, the searing heat flushing over his face as he sobs and trembles. He feels _small_ again, losing his big sister to the Huntresses. When she took every memory and threw it all away for a new life that didn’t include him.

Because Jason did the same thing—putting an end to their story the moment that he left. Maybe even before that. Nico feels hollow because a part of him died when Jason did. He’s _angry_ and _writhing_ with guilt, unable to warn Jason in time. But mostly—he’s just sad and confused. What’s left of his heart _hurts._

An arm wraps around Nico. Hazel. “Let it all out, Nico.”

Another. “It’s okay, Nico.” Frank.

And two more.

“Neeks—” Connor.

“We’re here for you,” Travis finishes.

They hold him for a long time. Until Nico’s dried out of tears.

*

“Hazel—you’re not going to do anything rash, are you?”

“No, Frank, I’m thinking very clearly right now.”

“Oh, okay. But—why do I get the feeling that might be worse?”

“Because it is.” Hazel’s eyes gleam with anger and she whirls around, scowling. Frank winces at the fluid movement but doesn’t do much else. So Hazel continues her stride down Zeus’s Fist with her tall boyfriend trailing her, assaulted with Hazel’s fumes of rage.

She makes no acknowledgment of Piper and Leo as they descend from the skies on Festus. She walks past Percy and Annabeth as they make it down from Halfblood Hill, having apparently come straight from their Friday class.

“Hi, Hazel—”

“Frank—!”

“Talk later,” Hazel tells them, and she marches straight back to the infirmary. She doesn’t know the layout of Camp Halfblood well—but the path she took to the pile of rocks while holding Nico’s trembling body in his hands burned the trail in her mind. She’ll memorize every pathway, every step that Nico has walked and felt lonely and miserable at this stupid Greek camp. Hazel makes it to the infirmary door.

“Hazel,” Frank intercepts again. He pulls Hazel aside, speaking in a hushed tone. “Remember that we’re here as ambassadors from Camp Jupiter. We’re praetors now. Whatever you do—we have to be careful. Our alliance is fragile. We don’t want to start another war.”

“Frank,” Percy calls again—which is when Hazel realizes that while the Stoll Brothers remained at Zeus’s Fist to console her big brother, the rest of their friends have decided to follow Hazel’s warpath. He arches a concerned eyebrow, gesturing at the tense composition of the roman couple. “What’s going on?”

Hazel kicks the infirmary door open and Frank squeaks.

Will Solace, shaggy blond hair and all, whirls around from his conversation with two other kids. Based on their glowing skin and bright blue eyes, Hazel can only assume that they’re his siblings.

“This _fool_ ,” Hazel shouts vehemently, “is the _worst_ thing to happen to Nico since Tartarus!”

Percy blinks owlishly, turning his head to Annabeth for guidance. Behind him, both Leo and Piper are trying their best to assess the scene, looking with wide, bewildered expressions like Frank.

“He made Nico cry!” Hazel fumes, throwing her arms into the air. “ _Multiple_ _times_!”

Percy’s head hangs low—a heavy nod to accept the words.

Annabeth places a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Let her go, Frank.”

Frank yelps. “But—”

“Trust me on this,” she says. Annabeth gives Hazel a reassuring look that the latter demigod would smile at if she weren’t so furious—something akin to, _I’ll work this out later._

Then, Hazel whips back around, her feet flying across the infirmary floor. Will Solace’s sibling are smart enough to scatter. Hazel raises her fist and launches it at the son of Apollo’s face with the force of the anger and pain that she’s just spent the afternoon watching.

Will falls to the ground, clutching his bloody nose, and Frank reels her back before she can land another punch.

“You,” Hazel snarls, “are _never_ going near Nico _ever again!_ Got it?”

Will looks back up, his expression dazed as he tries to recompose himself. He lowers his head, smart enough not to meet her gaze. “Got it.”

*

Of course, the moment Nico hears what happens, he shadowtravels to the infirmary anyway. Will sees Nico’s face—the extra gray around his eyes and the proof of dried tears streaking down his defined cheekbones. Through the haze of exhaustion, Nico inspects Will, then makes the slow strides to the ice machine to prep an ice pack. Will dismisses Austin and Kayla quietly—and while they were gobsmacked by the five-foot-two praetor who punched him, they give him looks of pity more than sympathy before leaving.

“She really did a number to your face,” Nico says hoarsely as he returns. His eyes are a mix of black and red, his voice thick since his nose is stuffed. Yet instead of focusing on himself, he inspects Will with the same concern and knowledge that the rest of his siblings carried when they worked around the infirmary. “You didn’t have Kayla sing a hymn?”

“I probably deserved it,” Will admits. Through the open door, he can see Hazel Levesque animatedly moving her arms around, no doubt explaining the misgivings of Nico and his relationship to the rest of Nico’s friends.

Nico follows his gaze and sighs in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s a classic sibling move to defend each other,” Will says. “I definitely deserved it.”

The corner of Nico’s lips etches into a smirk. Then he reaches over into a drawer and pulls out a small packet of alcoholic wipes in order to wipe Will’s bloody nose. After months of dating, he knows where everything is. Nico picked up helping around in the infirmary so quickly that Will grew to rely on him as a helping hand. Maybe Nico did it so they had something to talk about—or maybe he did it because he liked it. Will’s not sure.

“I’m sorry, Nico,” Will says quietly. He removes the ice pack so Nico can help wipe down his nose. “I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Nico’s hands pause across Will’s face. “Thank you.”

“It’s just—when I came out to my mom and my siblings, there was never a doubt in my mind that they wouldn’t accept me, you know? Sure, I was a little nervous—but I got over it so we could just skip to the good parts.” Will sucks the inside of his mouth and he stares up at Nico’s wary demeanor. “Being transparent about our relationship to everyone was my way of telling anyone who’d be mean about it to _deal_ with it.”

“ _Your_ way, Will.”

“Yeah. My way.” Will grimaces, and his nose hurts. “I was so excited about the prospect of you being at camp and fitting in that I was already at the deep end while you were still getting your feet wet.”

Nico’s eyes flicker momentarily, and then he sits in the cot across from Will. Away from Will. “There were good moments.”

“Yeah?”

“I had to process some moments faster than others, but they were good. Mostly good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Nico says again.

Will shuts his eyes, his nose aching as he does so, then he hears Nico pass him the ice bag again. He thinks back to the wave of negative feelings, thoughts, and emotions that passed through him when Nico yelled at him earlier—the grief behind Bianca di Angelo’s death, the terror in Tartarus. He’d told Nico that all of that fear was nonsense, but—what he felt wasn’t nonsense.

That heartbreak he felt from Nico, about Jason Grace’s spirit being judged in the Underworld, wasn’t nonsense.

“We’re broken up now,” Will says quietly. “Aren’t we?”

Nico hesitates for a brief moment, but Will’s too afraid to see the look on his face. “Yeah, Will.”

“Can we still be friends?”

Again, Nico doesn’t answer right away. “Maybe with time.”

Will ignores the way his heart aches. It never had a chance—even when months ago, when Will went up to Jason Grace and asked for advice on the best way to ask Nico out on a date. Jason had poured more time knowing Nico’s interests than Will, who tutted and henpecked Nico back to health and couldn’t find the words to explain _why_ he found Nico so charming. Will should’ve read more into the way Jason’s amiable smile faded, and how that eyebrow arched in the air. Instead, he focused on how Jason nodded and already had a list of Nico’s hobbies and favorite topics on hand.

“However long it takes,” Will says.

*

The weekend is a _whirlwind_ for them. Percy stands to the side as Will Solace and Annabeth explain to Mr. D and Chiron that Hazel’s assault is nothing more than a sibling protecting another sibling and _not_ a declaration of war, and Will waves his hand dismissively as Chiron suggests that their roman guest apologizes. Will’s a good guy, Percy thinks, he just doesn’t know the appropriate times to think with his head and his heart.

They eat in the Mess Hall, with Percy making gestures from his table to Annabeth like he normally does. Leo decides to join in—and then they coax Frank, and Leo coaxes Piper—and the Stoll Brothers, of course, manage to get a rise out of _everyone_ , and Chiron quickly tells them to consolidate to one table before a food fight can break out. Percy, Annabeth, Leo, Frank, and Piper consolidate to the Hades table with Hazel and Nico, and they play catch up.

Nico scrapes food into the brazier for his father, and they catch him praying to Lord Hades to watch Jason. Hazel and Frank share a smile and do the exact same, while the rest of them follow in suit. Percy pretends not to notice as both Leo and Piper go teary eyed before they mumble the same prayer to their fallen friend.

They play Capture the Flag with Cabin Thirteen faltering to Cabin Eleven. And at Frank’s insistence, the Ares Cabin also plays red team. Which is totally fine, because Athena Cabin chooses Percy (per usual), and the Hephaestus Cabin and even some people from the Aphrodite Cabin are on the blue team with them.

Percy thinks they’re close to winning, but later hears that Hazel and Nico charged through the Apollo Cabin like they were nothing (and they probably let the Underworld siblings _go_ ), and as his hands reach for the red flag, the Stoll Brothers are already hauling Nico and Hazel over their shoulders in victory, with the Ares and Hermes Cabin parading behind them.

“Since when are the Stoll Brothers close to Nico?” Percy asks Annabeth.

“Since they took care of him that first winter he was here,” Annabeth explains. “Remember?”

Not at all, but Percy’s glad that there’s someone at Camp Halfblood taking care of Nico while Annabeth and he are at school.

In the evening, they sing campfire songs. Percy notices Will isn’t there. Maybe it’s for the best. He glances over to Nico, who’s wedged between Hazel and Connor Stoll as they teach the two praetors how each song goes as they clap their hands.

Then, when everyone calls it a night, the seven of them retreat to Cabin Three to recount how the last couple of months have been. Annabeth explains Percy and her trip to Boston to help Magnus and Hazel explains her rise to praetor after Reyna left to join the Huntresses. Percy cocks his head when Annabeth squeezes his hand, and they steal a glance to Nico at the mention of Artemis. Nico looks as tired as he’s always been—but maybe it’s not a fair assessment. Even if he doesn’t want to bring attention to himself, Percy watches as Nico fiddles with his ring and dissociates from the conversation.

They talk about Jason. They have to. Hazel and Frank explain how they gave Jason a traditional Roman funeral—doing it swiftly so Jason’s spirit could cross to the other side.

“It’s what he deserved,” Piper says quietly.

“You think so?” Percy asks, and he arches an eyebrow at his old friend’s ex-girlfriend. “He spent the last few months at Halfblood. Winter break would’ve marked your anniversary here, right?”

Piper’s expression suddenly morphs, and Leo and she share looks.

“Don’t worry,” Nico reassures them quietly—and Percy notices how quickly Hazel’s hand flies to her brother’s. “I made a banner for him here.”

The pair sigh in relief.

There are tears. Piper starts crying first, and Leo puts his arm around her, eyes rimmed with red. It’s been months now, Percy thinks, since Jason’s death, but the wound is still fresh. He wishes he was there when Caligula dangled Jason’s life in front of him. Jason’s death is a cold reminder that they’re not invincible, and Percy would’ve done the same thing if the choice came down to Annabeth or him. But that’s why he said _no_ in the first place.

Annabeth holds his hand when he starts to tremble, and he sees the tears in her eyes. Frank starts to quiver after explaining how he avenged Jason’s death. Percy tells the big guy how _proud_ he is, and the floodgates open. When Frank cries, Hazel cries, and even Percy’s eyes get blurry. It’s Leo’s death all over again—except Leo’s here, and _that_ seems to plague the son of Hephaestus too.

“I never got to see him again,” Leo whispers, his voice raspy. “My best friend.”

Hazel sniffles and she smiles through her tears. “You should have been there for his funeral. It was beautiful.”

“You didn’t go?” Percy cocks his head in surprise. “Weren’t you just with Apollo?”

Leo laughs softly and bows his head to hide his tears. Piper squeezes his hand softly, and they look like they haven’t let go of each other since entering the cabin.

“He wanted to take care of me,” Piper says softly, and she wipes her tears with her palm.

“Yeah, but he was your boyfriend,” Percy says with confusion. “I know he broke up with you, but—”

“It’s what he would have wanted,” Nico interjects, and when Percy looks up, he realizes that the son of Hades is the only one who hasn’t shed any tears. Instead, Nico looks more composed than ever, his posture relaxed as he leans against one of the bunk beds. “For you two to take care of each other. You two meant everything to him.”

Leo blinks in confusion, but Piper smiles through her tears.

“You spent a lot of time with him, too,” Piper whispers. “Helping with temple designs. I never had the patience for that.”

Nico stops fiddling with his ring. He raises his head and nods slowly. “Yeah. I did.”

“Could you…could you bring his spirit back?”

Everyone freezes. They all look to the daughter of Aphrodite now, watching as she leans forward as the idea formulates in front of her.

“Apollo said that he couldn’t heal Jason, and that Jason couldn’t escape through the Doors of Death. That he isn’t a cheater.” Piper’s eyebrows furrow together, and she sits taller now. “But you’re the son of Hades. You brought Hazel back—”

“No,” Nico cuts her off and shakes his head. He doesn’t meet her gaze.

Hazel squeezes his hand tightly and she looks up to Piper, her eyebrows contorting together. “There’s a difference between talking to the dead and bringing someone’s spirit back, Piper. Jason’s in Elysium now. I was in Asphodel. He’s at peace.”

“But what if he isn’t?” Piper protests, and she whips her head back to Leo for support. He looks at much as a loss as she does. “If we could just _talk_ to him—”

“Sometimes it’s better to let the dead stay dead,” Annabeth interjects softly. She shares a glance with Percy, and they both meet Nico’s eyes, who looks unbearably uncomfortable under Piper’s query.

He shoots them a grateful look. “I think it’s better that we leave him in peace, Piper. I’m sorry.”

Another wave of tears overcomes Piper and she trembles. “Then what _good_ are you?”

She stands to her feet, turning away before anyone can see her again, and hurries out of Cabin Three. Nico winces as she slams the door behind her. They watch as Leo flies to his feet.

“Sorry, Nico.” Leo looks at them with a grimace and follows after her.

*

Later that night, Piper and Leo come back to Cabin Three and offer Nico a quiet apology. She doesn’t meet his eye, and while Nico looks upon the obvious grief and pain on her face, he can’t help but think about how it mimics his own when Bianca died. He thinks he hears the same thoughts in her voice—that he’s the son of _Hades_ , so he should have power over this. It’s all said out of pain. Grief makes people say things that they don’t mean. He has first-hand experience with it.

They all settle for a sleepover at Cabin Three. Nico watches one-by-one as everyone falls into slumber but himself. The cabin is silent, aside from the trickle of Percy’s fountain next to his nightstand, and he shadowtravels to Thalia’s Tree for the first time in a long time. Since Jason’s death.

He sits at the trunk, watching as the grass below him withers with his heart, and closes his eyes with a shaky breath.

Annabeth and Percy find him quickly. At this point, Nico doesn’t think he should be surprised. He looks at them, hand-in-hand, and thinks about how he used to yearn for something like that. To have a _person_ , the same way Annabeth and Percy have each other. He _wanted_ it to be Percy—but now he’s just glad to have people with him at all.

“Thought we might find you here,” Percy remarks softly. He plops next to Nico before Nico can protest, and Annabeth plops to the other side of him. He falls silent.

Annabeth scoots close to him, and he leans into her. “About what Piper said…she didn’t mean it—”

“I know,” Nico interjects quietly, and he looks down the hilltop. His eyes fall to Cabin Eight—Artemis’s Cabin—which glows beautifully with the moonlight, and feels his heart tighten. “People say a lot of things in the heat of the moment. A lot of angry things. I’ve done it too.”

He raises his gaze to Percy, noticing that the son of Poseidon is staring at him much more openly now, with much more concern.

“I never apologized for that. For making you make that stupid promise,” Nico mutters. “Or getting mad at you for not keeping it. It—it wasn’t right of me.”

Percy and Annabeth look at each other, and Nico wonders how two people are able to read each other so easily. He sees it every time they spare each other just a simple glance that explains a thousand words. He’ seen it with Hazel and Frank—he’s even seen it with Piper and Leo, but he doesn’t think they realize that connection yet. In the months that Will and he dated, he thinks he read Will better than Will read him. He knew Will was as brilliant as sunlight, radiant and forward as his fathers’ domain, but Will never quite shined enough light to understand how Nico felt.

And Nico thought he knew Jason. Up until Jason left. Nico thought he understood Jason, when Jason confessed that his head was so _clear_ when they spoke. Nico wanted to balk at the idea of giving Jason a Roman funeral—but he couldn’t fight Frank and Hazel’s reasoning. They wanted Jason to find peace. He wants to balk at all the reasons that Apollo couldn’t bring Jason back—because despite being brothers, there’s no way Apollo knew Jason Grace more in one day than Nico did in the months following the war.

But Jason _left_ , without saying goodbye. He _chose_ to do that, and Nico’s chest still hurts when he recalls coming out of the infirmary and finding out that Jason was already gone.

Nico doesn’t _know_ what he knows about Jason. He’d come to expect Will’s antics and knew all of Will’s hopes and dreams, but that came to a numb end earlier this afternoon. He thought he _knew_ Jason like Percy knows Annabeth, like Hazel knows Frank, like Leo knows Piper—but he doesn’t know anymore, and his heart just aches, torn since the day Jason _left._ Ripped to shreds, when Jason left the second time and died.

Nico blinks away his tears, his hands curling over his knees.

“Hey,” Percy says, and he’s clumsier than Jason is in consoling. Jason was clumsy once, too. “I got mad too when I couldn’t keep that promise, Nico. I didn’t want her to die.”

“She sacrificed herself,” Nico whispers, and he shakes his head furiously. “It was a noble death. She died a hero.”

“She was your _sister_ ,” Percy insists, “and you were ten. You didn’t even know that you were from the 1940s yet, and I—I should have tried harder—”

“Percy,” Nico cuts him off. “It’s okay.”

“But—”

“I’ve thought these thoughts before,” Nico replies. He shakes his head insistently, the familiar ache of Bianca that never heals resurging in his chest. “They weren’t good for me. I don’t want to be that angry boy anymore.”

He doesn’t want to be filled with the rage and the hate like he was when he was ten. When his heart broke for the first time, and he struggled to find all the pieces in the dark. He doesn’t want to ride the wave of emotions, where just as he thought his heart couldn’t break anymore, it shattered every time he thought about her. Every time he tried to bring her back. He doesn’t want to _feel_ that way anymore. He doesn’t want to feel lost.

“Is that why you don’t want to see Jason?” Percy asks.

Nico’s hand curls into a fist around the grass.

“That…day that I found you up here after the orientation video. It wasn’t just about Will, was it?” Percy asks again, and from the corner of Nico’s eye, he can see that concern grow. “It was about Jason, too. Jason had just left.”

Nico shuts his eyes and can’t help the empty chuckle that falls form his lips. “I told you, you’re smart, Percy.”

Annabeth squeezes his shoulder. He doesn’t know why they’re being so attentive now—or why that orientation video is being brought up _again_ —but they care. They cared when they sat with him when they watched the video while Will was off with his siblings and unable to understand why Nico was so irritated by his words.

“Are you sad…like…like Leo? Because they’re best friends?” Percy continues. “Or like Piper—?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nico tells him. “He’s dead.”

“But you could summon him,” Annabeth says softly. “Nico—no one else at camp has that skill. We weren’t there when he died. We didn’t get to say goodbye, and—clearly, some of us need to.”

“What if he doesn’t answer?” Nico asks, and his voice shakes. He opens his eyes, looking up at both demigods. His eyebrows furrow together, and the fear is prominent in his voice—the one that kept him from going to Jason’s grave or the Temple of Jupiter. “This _skill_ —it doesn’t _mean_ anything if he doesn’t answer. And I—I don’t know if he will. Bianca didn’t eve answer me until Percy got involved.”

They share a painstaking look again, and Nico _wishes_ he had someone to look at him the way that they look at each other. Percy told Nico a long time ago that Nico didn’t need to have a relationship like theirs—but it’s not that. Nico wants to be _happy_ like that—and despite the amount of people who have come to him and assured that it’s okay to grieve and mourn—he’s not happy. Part of him just feels missing.

“If he doesn’t answer,” Annabeth says, “then that means you don’t have to live with the fear of turning into that boy again. You can move on.”

Nico looks up to her, his brow aching from wrinkling together with so much worry.

“You sought her out because you thought you had no one else. You have a whole cabin down there full of people who care about you. Cabin Eleven and Cabin Five are going to be talking about this victory for the _rest of the month_ ,” Percy interjects. “You have people to fall back on. I’m here.” He frowns, looking down below, but it seems more at himself than anything else. “I should have been here for you to begin with.”

“You’re here now,” Nico protests.

“Yeah, I am,” Percy reassures. He looks over to Annabeth with a smile. “We both are. So what do you say?”

It takes a whole minute for Nico to answer. But he grabs both his hands (hears Percy yelp) and they shadowtravel to the nearest McDonalds.

*

A double quarter pounder, large French Fries, and a 32oz of unsweetened tea.

Nico’s never been a picky eater. These days, he forgets to eat and relies on the bag of M&Ms in his jacket pocket or the protein bars that Frank convinced him to carry in case he ever gets called away. These days after Tartarus—Hazel makes him eat an extra half a plate during dinner.

When they started this strange partnership of summoning ghosts who’ve encountered the gods, Jason had laughed when Nico said the ghosts preferred McDonalds. Then, Jason started ordering food himself, flashing Nico an excited, boyish grin and telling him that fast food was different from the Dining Pavilion at Camp Jupiter or the Mess Hall at Camp Halfblood. Nico always thought it was funny how Jason could get so excited for a cheeseburger and prepare to talk to ghosts for hours about temple details.

He thinks about it now, dumping the offerings at Jason’s grave site. When he smells the salty burger, his heart softens. He thinks about Jason’s bright blue eyes when they lit up, happily eating the junk food and slurping unsweetened tea that was brewed by something other than a magical chalice.

They wait a heartbeat, with the Jupiter Optimus Maximus in the distance. Nico still doesn’t want to visit it. He doesn’t want to think about how Jupiter let one son die to carry out a punishment for another.

Standing at Jason’s grave makes Nico’s pulse race. He stares at the food with anticipation, his hands trembling at his sides. Nico can _feel_ Jason’s body beneath the dirt. He _feels_ how cold Jason is, _knows_ that they stitched the wounds where Caligula stabbed him, _knows_ that Jason is there, physically.

But nothing happens, and Nico feels what’s left of his heart crumble.

“Why isn’t he showing up?” Annabeth asks.

“Because he’s not in Elysium,” Nico whispers. “He chose reincarnation.”

Percy reaches out first. “Nico—”

Nico shadowtravels to the foot of the Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

The tears sting now. He’s tired of crying. He was tired of it when Bianca died—when he landed in Tartarus, when Cupid forced him to come out—and he desperately didn’t want to cry again. He’s tired of this anger that comes with mourning—and he’s tired of having to feel it.

_“Why_?” he demands through his tears, staring at the statue of Jason’s father. “Why couldn’t you protect him for once?”

Jupiter doesn’t answer. He stares past Nico to the vast skyline, uninterested in everything that falls below his line of sight. Jupiter doesn’t _care_ about anything that isn’t in his court, and certainly doesn’t care about the Underworld. It’s beneath him.

The anger churns in Nico’s stomach, and his fingernails dig crescents at his palms.

“Why’d you leave me, Jason?” Nico whispers miserably.

His knees give out on him from exhaustion. Nico turns his back from Jupiter, too proud to let the King of the Gods see him as weak and buries his face in his hands. He sits for a long time. Long enough to feel the warmth of sunlight against his body, and to hate the Sun God even more.

Percy and Annabeth find him eventually. He finds out later that they searched all night for him.

“We’re here, Nico,” Annabeth says.

“We’re never going to let you be alone ever again,” Percy says. “You’ve got us. And Hazel and Frank, and Connor and Travis, and Leo and Pip—”

“Thank you,” Nico tells them, and he means it. When he looks up, Annabeth throws her arms around him. He looks to Percy—who awkwardly stands there, hands tucked in his pockets—and pulls Percy into a hug, too.

They hold him, like the boy they first met. Maybe even tighter now.

And when they let go, Nico knows it’s time to move on.

*

The grief grows smaller with each passing day. Nico’s familiar with this part now. It took him a long time to get there the first time when Bianca died. Finding Hazel helped. Jason helped. Reyna helped. Even Will shined bright enough for Nico to forget about the wound in his heart until nothing came of it but a scar to look back on—and a reminder that he’s healed as best he can.

The new wound shrinks eventually. Hazel and Frank help. Annabeth and Percy help, and eventually Leo comes around. Leo tells Nico to stop carrying the scroll around, and that Piper will come around, too. They don’t visit Camp Halfblood often. Maybe once every other month. Piper’s focused on learning about her father’s heritage than Aphrodite’s, and Nico respects that. Leo tinkers around Bunker Nine, but he wants to stay close to Piper, as she tries to heal. Nico respects that, too.

Percy and Annabeth spend the entire summer at Camp Halfblood. Nothing new breaks out. No new wars, no great evil—just three long summer months where they get to enjoy peace in their second home before starting their new journey at New Rome. Nico helps out at the infirmary when Will and he are comfortable again. But that’s all he is—help. He notices Will warming up to Connor as Connor frequents to check up on Nico and drop off small snacks for both of them.

Nico frequents New Rome to visit Hazel and Frank. They let him provide additional tweaks to the shrines and temples when Nico feels ready. Frank wants his opinions at Senate meetings. Hazel requires him to make dinner every Thursday and take all the leftovers home.

When Connor leaves for NRU, too, he asks Nico to help his little sister, Ramona, watch over Cabin Eleven. But not too much—otherwise she’ll never get away with stealing from the camp store.

Nico helps the unclaimed demigods who arrive at camp. He teaches shadowtraveling to the Hecate Cabin, to the Hypnos Cabin—and some of the lucky people from the Hermes Cabin. He helps Will in the infirmary, able to guess what tool he needs before Will speaks a word, and sits with the unclaimed demigods, playing games with them like Travis and Connor used to do with him.

He sits under Thalia’s tree when he needs a moment of peace, feeding apples to Peleus. When he feels the familiar ache in his heart, he shadowtravels to New Rome, where everyone awaits him, and feels less alone.

Persephone graces him with fruit from her garden. He doesn’t visit the Underworld—his heart still compels him to search Elysium, even though he knows nothing awaits him there. Once, in a dream, Hades tells him it’s okay. Nico has a life in the surface world, and for his two children, a second chance at life is more than he can ask for.

He stays out of the shadows for a full year. Annabeth and Percy visit during fall and winter break, Frank and Hazel take weekends off as praetors, and Connor and Travis always seem to be there when Nico least expects it.

But eventually, Nico has to go back to the Underworld for one reason or another.

To this day, he doesn’t remember why he went down there.

“Dad, I—” Because the moment he sees broad shoulders and golden blond hair, and beautiful blue eyes that held the sky, he forgets. “ _Jason_?”

He sees Jason standing there, pale and glowing at the foot of the throne, with a jovial smile as he converses with the King and Queen of the Underworld. There’s warmth on his face, as Jason talks to Hades and Persephone. And then he looks up, and Nico gets lost looking in those irises. In the way that Jason moves so fluidly, unlike the corpse that he felt months ago.

Nico doesn’t know what’s on his face, but he sees Jason’s morph with surprise. He sees blond eyebrows knit together, and the unsurmountable emotions that seem to coil in Jason’s face.

Neither one of them move. Nico feels as dead as he did the day he saw Jason’s body cross the River Styx. He feels just as afraid, when he watched Jason getting judged, when the sobering realization that Jason would no longer be returning to the world of the living hit him like a freight train.

His feet move before his heart pulses, in painstakingly slow steps. He sees Jason doing the same, the movement so livid that Nico doesn’t trust himself to say anything. He’s afraid he’ll wake up like he normally does, alone in his cabin and hollow.

But like that first day, Jason comes towards him. Jason seeks Nico out, like he always has since Cupid. “I—I really want to hug you right now. Is that okay?”

Nico fixates on the sound of Jason’s voice—the ambient tone that still tickles like a cool breeze. He feels himself turning red, and his own ears tune everything out except for the sound of Jason’s voice. Then, he nods.

The touch is chilling. Nico can’t hear a heartbeat. Jason’s skin is colder than ice against Nico’s own, and he feels the goosebumps rise against his arms as his cheek is against the crook of Jason’s ghostly neck. They’re close to the same height, Nico thinks, and he shivers as Jason envelops him in a deeper hug.

“You’re so cold,” is all that Nico can say. A thousand words are on his tongue and a million questions run through his mind, but all he can focus on is Jason.

“You’re not,” Jason whispers back.

Nico hugs him back, holding back a sob against Jason’s shoulder.

For as far away as they’ve been from each other since Jason’s death—since _before_ Jason’s death—his heart feels full.

*

His father explains it. Nico’s flummoxed just hearing it. Jason arrived a year ago, unhappy. He spent his first weeks in the afterlife thinking of all of the improvements that could be made and Hades offered Jason a trial run. Jason hasn’t left since. Apparently, Charon can’t be happier, and all Nico can think about is how he once told Jason that his father’s ferryman was always complaining about never getting a raise.

“Unhappy,” Nico repeats after his father’s explanation. He casts a glance to Jason and his pulse quickens as Jason waves at him. “Is it because he’s not in Elysium?”

It _dawns_ on him why he couldn’t summon Jason’s spirit. Jason was _here_ , in the palace, working under his father, and Nico’s even more confused. His father’s tie was the only thing keeping Nico from summoning Jason. Because his father liked Jason as much as he does—

“No, my son,” Hades corrects, and he tilts his head curiously, studying Nico. “I said he was unhappy with _Elysium_.”

“So he made improvements?” Nico asks, and he feels his head pounding. “To Elysium? The happiest place on earth?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Hades mutters grumpily, and if Nico were in better spirits, he’d laugh. Instead, he watches as Hades leans back in his throne, his expression just a little less stern. When he raises his head to Jason, there’s a softness there that Nico’s only seen for Persephone—or for Hazel and him. “Hard to believe that my imbecile of a brother let this one go so easily.”

Nico’s heart constricts in his chest. His arms are folded over his chest and he grips himself just a little bit tighter. “I can’t say I don’t feel the same way.”

Hades’s eyes fall back to him. “I’ve watched over him every day.”

Nico twitches. “You didn’t mention that in my dreams.”

“I’ve watched over him long before you started praying for me to,” Hades explains, and Nico’s cheeks bloom with red. His dad watches on with amusement, and then Hades strokes his chin. “Though he did call me by your name once. Perhaps I should have read a little more into that.”

Nico’s heart skips a beat. He turns his head fully to Jason, who seems to be waiting with anticipation. Again, Jason stands a little taller, and Nico can’t help but think about how Jason glows like the rest of his father’s court. It’s disarming.

“He’s prospered here,” Hades notes quietly, when Nico’s gaze lingers a little too long. “Persephone has taken a liking to him, as have I.”

Nico snorts. “Has she turned him into a dandelion?”

“Quite the contrary,” Hades says. “She’s spent time teaching him plant magic.”

Nico’s head hurts all over again. He tries not to look at Jason. Instead, his eyes fall to his feet and his hands unfurl from his chest. Jason’s _prospered._ Jason has earned the good favor of Nico’s father (which doesn’t surprise Nico in the least), and he’s thriving. “Jason and I…we used to collaborate a lot when it came to building shrines. He respected my opinion.”

“Yes, I understand he helped him in the Giant War,” Hades speculates. He falls silent. Then asks, “Do you miss him?”

“Every day,” Nico answers without pause. He sucks in a breath, unable to meet his father’s eye, but unable to look at Jason again. “But…thank you. For taking care of him.”

Hades tilts his head once more, scrutinizing in a way that makes Nico blush. “Why don’t you take him to the gardens? He can show you just exactly how he’s grown down here.”

*

A lot of things come to light in the gardens. Nico gets lost listening to Jason talk as much as Jason suddenly follows his voice (an embarrassing side effect of being the Ghost King that Nico isn’t sure how to _feel_ about) and Jason talks with the same familiarity that makes Nico’s chest tingle.

The one little dandelion Jason summons doesn’t leave Nico’s hand. He cradles it the entire time—this little weed that doesn’t wilt between his fingers like the grass or the flowers above do when he touches them. Nico is stunned to receive it from Jason’s ghostly fingers. He’s stunned that Jason’s voice still sounds the same, and how the little light still twinkles in Jason’s eyes like stars.

They talk about Reyna and Thalia, and Nico doesn’t understand how he didn’t see it coming. Jason knew. Reyna left because of love—because of a _girl_ like Nico likes _guys_ , and he isn’t sure how to feel. He never understood how Reyna could usurp her life to join the Huntresses and throw everything with the Twelfth Legion away. Reyna likes girls. Reyna _likes_ girls—likes _Thalia_. Maybe more. Enough to say goodbye to her old life.

His throat goes dry as he tries to process this. Nico doesn’t understand how he could feel so close to Reyna and Jason and yet know so little about the same time. He faintly thinks back to a long time ago, when Frank said that they all had their own secrets—but this feels different.

“Because we wanted to make sure _you_ felt safe first,” Jason tells him softly. And it’s the way he says it. _We_ , meaning Reyna and him. _We_ , like Jason is including himself in the way Reyna likes girls, like…like he likes…

“We?” Nico hears himself echoing.

He gets lost in that smile again, no matter how cold Jason looks and feels now. The way Jason’s mouth contort, showing off the faint scar on his lip, even in this iridescent form. “We.”

Nico wants to laugh because it feels like it’s too good to be true. He used to warn his heart not to go there again—not after Percy. His own heart is pulsing in his ears, and his entire body tingles—something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time and didn’t allow himself to feel around Jason. It’s just _too good to be true._ “But…Piper?”

“I don’t like guys any less because I was with Piper.”

Nico’s heart pounds now, full throttle. His head feels dizzy, and the rush of emotions he used to feel around Jason when Jason was alive—the butterflies in his stomach when Jason would laugh, even if Nico didn’t say something funny on purpose, the fullness in his chest when Jason and he would spend nights talking about minor gods and goddesses, how Jason would just vibrate in excitement when he had a stroke of inspiration about a shrine or a temple—and his gaze falls down to their hands, which had entwined a while ago.

Jason liked boys, too.

Jason—

Jason pulls his hand back, and Nico blinks in confusion. There’s a fluster in Jason’s face—and while ghosts can’t blush, Nico recognizes _that_ sense of embarrassment. He sees how Jason’s lips contort, and how Jason suddenly fiddles with the second dandelion in his hands.

Nico clears his throat to distill the tension between them. “Tell me all that you’ve done so far.”

Jason explains all of the work he’s done in the last year in the Underworld—Charon’s paper boats, Persephone’s shrines, Hypnos’s trees in a park in Elysium—and every new shrine reminds Nico of his favorite night in the beginning, when they tested the waters of their friendship. When he was waiting for Jason to grow bored of him, and spent the entire night asking about how to honor the Underworldly gods instead.

Even in death, Jason thought about Nico like Nico thought about Jason. The conversation that they have, sitting on the pristine white bench in his stepmother’s garden, feels like a heart that’s beating again.

It comes to a halt when Jason’s face suddenly slackens. When Nico mentions that it’s been a year since his death. He gets this look on his face akin to the one he wore on the days leading up to his departure. There’s a dark regret in his eyes that’s chilling—something that Nico would _never_ expect to see in a hero that’s found peace in Elysium. He’s only seen it in one type of ghost.

“Snap out of it,” Nico commands.

When Jason does, he looks at Nico again, utterly devoted in a way that most ghosts do, and Nico dismisses it immediately. There’s fear and confusion in Jason’s eyes, and Nico can’t help but wonder—if he’d stayed and watched Jason’s soul get judged, would he have seen it back then, too?

“Is it normal?” Jason asks him quietly, and there isn’t the easy bravado of earlier. “To feel so unhappy with being dead?”

He blurts out all of the feelings that Nico never got to hear when Jason was alive, and Nico’s stunned by what he sees. Jason’s eyebrows contort with worry, his gaze is overcome with fear, his posture screams of nervousness. There’s _regret_ in his voice that’s probably nullified because they’re down in the Underworld, but each word sounds fatigued. Jason isn’t _happy_ down in the Underworld, and Nico’s too taken aback to know what to say.

When Jason vehemently turns down reincarnation, Nico’s even more confounded. Jason sounds so lost but is firm against rebirth.

“What do you want, Jason?” Nico asks eventually.

Jason gives him a look that’s even more chilling in death. His expression is strange for a hero, and the dandelion between his fingers shrivels—as imperfect and incomplete as Jason feels as the seeds drift off. “I don’t think it matters anymore.”

For the person that’s dead, Jason looks like he’s grieving more than any of the people that mourned him. Nico included.

They get on a different subject eventually. Nico hesitates to mention all the details about Jason’s death—but as he speaks about it freely, Jason seems absorbed. He doesn’t know the proper social etiquette when it comes to explaining to a _ghost_ how his _funeral_ was handled, but the way Jason latches onto the words lets him know that Jason isn’t uncomfortable.

When Jason admits that he didn’t want his funeral held in front of the Temple of Jupiter, Nico feels a little better. Because he _knew_ that about Jason. 

Nico doesn’t realize how in depth their conversation carries—how much he’s _talked_ about death without someone giving him a weird look and telling him to change subjects until they make it to the end. Jason even _jokes_ that he’s dead, and _that’s_ a new one for Nico.

“How’s Will?” Jason asks him eventually, and Nico tries to read his expression. For some reason, Jason wears the same face that he wore when he encouraged Nico to go on that first date. Which seems like a lifetime ago.

“We broke up a while ago,” Nico explains quietly.

There’s a way Jason looks at him next, his eyes widening just a smidge, mouth parting. “How long is a while ago?”

Nico tries not to think about it. He’d gone through a lot of pain with his breakup with Will—and only some of it was because of the son of Apollo himself. He tries to shrug nonchalantly and to stifle all of the heartache that came with thinking about Jason’s death, when the wound on his heart was still fresh. “A little bit after you died.” 

Jason fumbles with the stem of his ruined dandelion, and Nico thinks back to how Jason used to roll his mechanical pencil between his fingers when he was deep in thought.

*

Nico stays long enough for dinner—to watch his stepmother ladle a fifth scoop of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in Jason’s bowl and instruct Jason to make the tulips at the center of the table bloom. She gives Jason a look, like a teasing older sister, as the tulips tremble briefly but don’t quite blossom.

“I got a dandelion to grow earlier,” Jason mumbles. “Two, actually.”

One of them is sitting delicately in Nico’s coat pocket.

“Oh,” Hades says. “When you and Nico were in the garden?”

Persephone’s eyes flicker with amusement.

“I wanted to show him what I’ve been doing down here,” Jason explains. He reaches for the tulip this time, and Nico watches as a second one appears. Jason hands it to Nico.

“Impressive,” Nico muses—and he breathes in the scent. When he looks up, he notices Jason’s smiling a little brighter.

“Oh,” Persephone says, “so you wanted to impress Nico?”

Jason makes another face—the one he had when he realized they were holding hands in the garden—and fiddles with his cereal once more. “Nico said that I had to want it. To grow flowers, I mean.”

Like willing the winds or summoning lightning, Nico remembers saying, but Jason had looked disappointed at the fact that Elysium didn’t have storms. Nico was confounded to hear that much like the Greek and Roman camps, Jason didn’t feel like he fit in Elysium either. But he doesn’t want to choose reincarnation, and that confuses Nico more.

That…makes Nico a little more relieved.

His stepmother gives Nico a devilish look, and Nico pretends not to notice.

It’s his father who pipes up.

“I guess we’ll see in time how strong your desire is.” Hades raises his head, his eyes meeting Nico for a brief moment. “Won’t we, my son?”

Nico pretends not to notice that look, either. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually, Jason.”

Nico loses track of time as they gather in the sitting room and Hades goes on a tirade about the glory days with Poseidon and Zeus, per usual—but he watches as Jason seems absorbed in Hades’s story when Zeus is mentioned. Even in death—after Zeus chose to redeem one son and not save the other—Jason still yearns to know more about his father. Still yearns to be seen by him, still yearns for storms. He still wants his father’s approval, and he died never seeing Jupiter again.

It's a little easier to read Jason now that Nico knows that Jason is unhappy. More so—the way that Jason feels compelled to learn from Persephone and listen to Hades’s stories, Nico thinks he understands how much more depth there is to Jason. There’s a layer for every emotion Jason feels for each of his friends, for…them—

And Nico shakes his head before he can get too lost in that thought. He stands to his feet.

“Leaving already, my son?” His father asks. “Tell Hazel I said hi.”

“I’ve got a life to get back to up there,” Nico explains, and he reaches for his bomber jacket and his shoes. “I’ll drop off the fruit for Haz—”

He looks down to Jason, and his heart wrenches.

Jason looks up to Nico’s risen form, his eyebrows knitted together. The hue of his ghostly eyes dim, and his lips contort into a frown. His hands curl against his lap, and his gaze doesn’t quite meet Nico’s own.

Nico’s leaving, and he can’t take Jason with him. “Jason—”

“No, you’re right.” Jason stands to his feet, and it still astounds Nico that they’re seeing each other at eye level. “You’ve got a life to live.”

Nico grimaces at his own words. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“it’s okay,” Jason echoes again, and they’re parallel to each other. Jason’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he tries for Nico. It makes Nico think of the ones that Jason would give him after Will and he started dating. How Jason looked, when he realized he’s been dead for over a year. But then the smile fades, and Jason fiddles with his shirt instead. “I’ll be here.”

It never occurred to Nico that when he tried to move on, Jason wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Come back soon, Nico,” Persephone suddenly says. “Maybe Jason will be able to make a whole garden grow the next time you’re here.”

Jason seems to latch onto that word. His expression looks so hopeful that it kills Nico.

“Soon,” Nico agrees, and his heart skips a beat as Jason’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Soon,” Jason repeats.

It’s hard not to look at Jason when Nico shadowtravels away. Harder, since Jason already looks a little less happy.

*

When Nico arrives back to Cabin Thirteen, his knees give out on him. The food in his stomach evaporates, and his chest feels empty. His whole body feels numb with coldness, and a lump swells at the back of his throat. He looks up to the ceiling of the Hades Cabin—at the brooding obsidian. It’s darker than the walls of his father’s palace.

He palms the dandelion and tulip sequestered inside his pocket.

Will and Connor both knock on his door a couple of hours later.

“You missed some shadowtraveling classes. Lou Ellen was worried,” Will tells him. He doesn’t berate Nico for being gone. “And you know Katie won’t let anyone near her at the infirmary except for you—”

“Sherman wants your opinion for the next Capture the Flag game,” Connor says. “And Frank wanted us to let you know about the next Senate meeting—”

“Thanks,” Nico says quietly, and he shirks his jacket off, careful not to crush the gifts from Jason. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

They both give him worried looks but say nothing more. Instead, they give him space, and Nico takes the time to heave a heavy sigh.

He has a life up here, he reminds himself. Jason reminded him, too.

*

Nico has to psyche himself up to visit the Underworld. His heart swells in his chest when he gets to see Jason’s elated smile, but it gets harder to breathe when he realizes he has to leave. Jason looks at him with those eyes that aren’t quite as happy each time he announces his departure, and Nico finds it hard to move his feet. Hard to go _back_ to the Underworld because he _knows_ he’ll have to leave and see the sadness as it washes over Jason’s face again. Jason’s not quite happy in the Underworld, but he smiles just a little bit wider when Nico is there.

But he can’t always _be_ there. Nico has classes to teach. He oversees the patients in the infirmary when it gets too full from Capture the Flag and watches over Cabin Eleven when the Stoll Brothers are at school. He has senate meetings with Hazel and Frank, and Saturday morning breakfasts with Percy and Annabeth—

He has a life up above, away from Jason. But he doesn’t know if it’s harder not to go down there and _see_ Jason, or harder not to stay below.

He doesn’t want to get sucked back into the darkness of the Underworld. But—he can’t deny the reprieve it gives him, either.

How do Persephone and Hades _do_ this every year?

*

There’s an instance where the huntresses make it to Camp Halfblood. Nico watches as Thalia and Reyna are hand-in-hand, and he understands. He watches how tenderly Reyna smiles at her lieutenant around the campfire, both huntresses glowing under the moonlight even brighter than the rest of their pack. Thalia leans on Reyna like an extra limb, and they support together. They smile more brightly because they’re together. They’re stronger because they’re together.

“I would have told you sooner,” Reyna tells him later as they sit on the porch of the Big House, while everyone else sleeps. “But—”

“Communications were down,” Nico finishes for her. “I know.”

He thinks back to their last meeting, huddled under the Garden of Bacchus and enjoying the sweet scent of strawberries and grapes as they ripened under New Rome’s warmth. Reyna’s company offered the same kind of kindheartedness that Hazel’s does, and Nico relished in the fact that Reyna and he were so similar. But he thinks back to the way that Thalia pressed her forehead to Reyna’s, like they were the only two people in the world, wonders if they really are. He’s held onto his sister and friends—but not like the way Reyna and Thalia have it figured out.

“How come you never told me?” he asks, and his voice is faint as he looks at the Artemis Cabin glowing under the moonlight.

Reyna stares at him quietly as she sips her hot chocolate. “I guess because I could never put into words how I felt about her.”

“What changed?“

“She kissed me first.” There’s amusement in Reyna’s voice—and a lightness altogether that makes Nico’s heart twist. Not because he’s jealous—but because he can tell that she’s happy with her decision, even if that meant leaving her old life behind. Leaving him behind.

He turns to face her, and even though Reyna glows beautifully in the moonlight, she still looks like the girl who held him years ago, when the war ended. Her expression contorts, wistful.

“After Jason died, she told me she didn’t want to regret never trying,” she explains. “And I wanted to stop worrying over whether or not I was saying the right thing.”

Nico purses his lips.

“But I’m sorry that I left you,” Reyna says before Nico can think about it. “I know it caused you a lot of pain when Bianca left.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, the familiar ache of watching Bianca come out of the tent, glowing as ethereally as the rest of the Huntresses. Nico was angry once—but he doesn’t hold a grudge. “I could never tell you how to live your life. I wouldn’t want to. Especially if you’re happy.”

“I was happy with you, too.”

“So why leave?” Nico turns to her, trying not to let his frustration show, but fails. “Why start a new life?”

Reyna studies him for a moment, her skin glowing just a little more unnaturally. “I didn’t realize I could be even happier.”

“Without the Legion?” Nico asks. His eyebrows furrow together, and the ache feels stronger. “Without me?”

At the last question, Nico thinks he sees the sadness finally pouring over Reyna’s gaze. He misses their strolls through New Rome and their quality time in the Garden of Bacchus. The Camp Halfblood hot chocolate doesn’t taste quite as sweet. “I’m sorry, Nico.”

Nico calms himself down before he can get too tense. His shoulders fall from their height, and he shakes his head as he leans into the wooden railing. “Don’t be.”

They fall into a silence. Despite himself, Nico reclaims his seat next to Reyna and leans into her like nothing’s changed. He’s reminded of Persephone’s white swinging bench, swinging his feet as he watched Jason summon flowers at Persephone’s behest. The sensation in his chest is familiar.

“She cried a lot,” Reyna says quietly. There’s no question to who she’s referring to. Reyna’s demeanor only looks that gentle for one demigod in particular. “With me. She didn’t want the rest of the huntresses to know. Jason was the last person of her old life. I don’t think she should have joined them otherwise.”

“He’s prospering down there,” Nico reassures her.

Immediately, Reyna pulls away, a look of surprise on her face. “You’ve talked to him?”

Nico nods.

“You’ve talked to him,” Reyna repeats, and she tilts her head. “More than once?”

He explains the first meeting, and the handful after. Nico tries to visit every other month or so, and Jason always lights up with joy when they see each other. He explains what Jason’s done down there—improving Elysium, hanging around his father’s palace, conjuring plants.

There’s one memory etched in his mind— when Jason and he stood in his father’s grim, old library filled with scrolls and textbooks from dead scholars. Like the rest of the palace, the walls were made of glittering black obsidian and the floors were a cold bronze. The library was shrouded in darkness, lit only by the flames of candles. Yet Jason obliviously treated the palace like it was a second home, or like he was in Cabin Thirteen again. Nico couldn’t help his amusement by it. Jason was far too restless as a ghost, but sometimes it made him look more human. Sometimes it made Nico forget Jason was dead.

Jason wanted Nico’s help translating a book from Ancient Greek. He knew the conjugations—but they didn’t come as naturally to Jason as Latin did. It was a reminder that as engulfed by Greek culture that he was in his last year of life, Jason wasn’t truly Greek, as much as he wasn’t truly Roman.

“I’m sure you could ask Alecto to translate the text for you,” Nico told him.

Jason had given him a look, sheepish, as he set the book down on the mahogany table. “It gives me something to look forward to. Hanging out with you.”

That amused Nico more. “What do you do when I’m not here?”

“The usual. I hang out with your dad, go visit Leo and Frank’s moms, and get yelled at by your stepmom when I grow peaches instead of apples…” Jason’s voice had trailed off. His ghostly eyebrows had contorted. He looked at Nico with his blue eyes—opalescent in Hades’s realm—and he’d looked shyer. “And I wait for you to come back.”

Death had made Jason much more earnest, like his sister. Nico had spent the night (something that made Jason light up like the sun) and was informed that he missed a Senate meeting when he went back to the surface.

“Nico,” Reyna says—and her tone of voice lets him know that she’s come to a realization, “do you like Jason?”

Nico tenses at the inquiry. “You asked me that once.”

“I did.”

“I said no.”

“You’re not saying ‘ _no’_ now.”

“He’s _dead_ , Reyna.” Nico shakes his head dismissively and clamps his hands on the wooden railing. From the corner of his eye, he can see Reyna staring at him, as though trying to figure out the full story. “How do you think the camp is going to react when they realize Nico di Angelo likes a _ghost_ , for Hades’ sake?”

Reyna flashes him a look of concern. “Is that the only reason?”

“It’s a valid one.”

“Don’t you teach classes here now? And help out in the infirmary?”

“That’s different. I don’t have to think about myself.” Nico hesitates, his hands squeezing his cup tightly, and he watches as the drink becomes cold, no longer thriving with warmth and heat under his touch. Again, he sees Reyna flashing him a look of concern. It’s why he isn’t angry about her for joining the Huntresses. Because he knows she still cares, even if they’re apart. “Will used to find it uncomfortable when I mentioned death. When I…I got too comfortable.”

“I thought the two of you were good now.”

“We are,” Nico agrees, and he fiddles with his ring. 

“But there were things about your relationship that made you uncomfortable,” Reyna recounts, and she arches an eyebrow in the air. “Do those same things still make you uncomfortable?”

“Not necessarily,” Nico grumbles. A different type of discomfort bubbles in his chest—a nagging sensation that hasn’t left since the first time he found Jason.

“I don’t recall Jason ever making you uncomfortable.”

“He did,” Nico assures. But even that argument wanes. “But we worked on it. He kept coming back and trying until I’d open up.”

The awkward, irritating moments at the beginning of Jason and his relationship are drowned out by the relief and happiness he felt for having a friend at Camp Halfblood all those years ago. He remembers the worried looks that Jason would cast at the mast of the Argo II. It used to irritate him, feeling fully exposed and vulnerable, and knowing that there was someone on the Argo II that could just _see_ that. But Jason told him to take a risk and trust again. Jason let Nico set the pace and walked alongside Nico with each step.

And then Jason left.

Reyna gives his hand a firm squeeze, and Nico feels vulnerable again. “It’s more than like, isn’t it?”

“What if he leaves again?” Nico whispers, and the frustration comes back—a phantom pain that resurfaces from before. It’s hard saying goodbye to Jason, but there’s a fear in Nico’s mind that one day he’ll go down to his father’s palace, and Jason will just be _gone_ for good. That Jason will get over this unhappiness and have a second chance—find out that he can be happier if he reincarnates.

Nico doesn’t think his heart can take it again. Not the tears, not the aches, and the wave of pain that nearly drowned him a second time.

And Nico _has_ a life up here. His life _is_ his second chance. He has people who helped him move on, who never let him spiral. They fill him with joy and happiness and include him in their decisions.

But nothing makes him feel the way he does when he sees Jason. Nothing hurts him more than when he has to leave Jason down there.

Reyna pulls him into a hug, and Nico feels his heart crumble again. “Would you rather live with the regret of never trying?”

Nico doesn’t answer. He just leans into her again and ignores the fact that she’s leaving in the morning. With her _new_ life.

*

There’s a moment in Persephone’s gazebo that Nico almost says it aloud. Jason has taken his apprenticeship with Persephone seriously, and shoes away undead bugs as they creep around the ground. Nico watches in amusement as Jason flicks them away with a broom—and the yellow grass looks just a little more vibrant.

“You’re getting better,” Nico notes. The moment he airs his observation, the grass fades, and Jason mutters a curse that Nico’s only heard spoken by the Furies.

“Not even _I_ can make the Queen’s gardens bloom when her husband’s heart weeps,” Jason muses. His lips curl, and his opalescent eyes look at Nico again, one pale blond eyebrow arched in the air. His skin glows under the ebony beams of the garden structure. The trees shrivel, and every flower is hunched over, ragged and wilted without the loving touch of their goddess.

Nico chuckles, plopping another pomegranate seed in his mouth. “So you’ve heard them being corny, too.”

“I’ve also seen the corn grow,” Jason muses, and Nico laughs a little harder. Suddenly, Jason stands erect, clutching at his chest—and with terrifying accuracy, quotes Nico’s father. “ _Take my heart when you go._ ”

The edge of Nico’s lips lifts into an amused smile, and he quotes a line that he’s heard at the beginning of every spring. “Only if you take mine in its place.”

He laughs again at the absurdity of the words—but when he looks up, his own chest flutters. A tender smile rests upon Jason’s face, his eyes shining as warmly as the summer sky. Nico remembers the first time he noticed that smile. He’d told his heart to shut up—and no matter how he thought he took the precautionary steps not to _fall_ for that smile, he was still disappointed when Jason encouraged him to date Will. He's not sure what to tell his heart now.

Jason goes to set the broom down against a beam—but it tilts to the left. Nico reaches out to grab it out of instinct—and of course, Jason does, too. They grab for it the same time, Jason suddenly in Nico’s proximity, one hand over the latter demigod’s own.

The coldness of Jason’s touch is sobering. Nico’s deafened by his own heartbeat, but he’s also acutely aware that Jason doesn’t have one. That if he stares hard enough, he can see past Jason’s eyes to the dark guardrail that encapsulates them. Keeps them here, isolated from the rest from the Underworld. The white of Jason’s scar seems to glow against his mouth. His eyes seem even bluer in death.

“When are you leaving?” Jason whispers quietly.

“Soon,” Nico whispers back, but the word almost escapes his tongue. Every word that involves leaving Jason seems to disappear at the edge of Nico’s lips.

Jason pulls away. He sets the broom down, steadier this time. “I’ll prepare some more pomegranates for you to take home. Persephone’s taught me to sustain that much.”

There’s a way that he says home—wistful and yearning.

“What day is it up there?” Jason tries to sound casual, but his back is turned.

“It was June 28th when I left.”

“June Twenty…oh.” Jason turns around, the realization dawning on him. His astral form flickers for a moment, and he looks even sadder. “My birthday’s just around the corner up there.”

“Yeah. It is.” There’s the sadness again—the nervousness and anxiety in Jason’s face that Nico only sees for fleeting moments when he makes his departure.

Jason’s laugh is quiet. “How old would I have been?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Jason whispers longingly, and he looks up to the sky of the Underworld. It looks more like a cavern filled with darkness than a sky—but Nico knows he’s imagining something else instead. “I would’ve finished school. I would be getting ready for college.”

Nico’s lips twist. His hands curl against the guardrail, still tingling with the icy touch of Jason’s forearm against his. The similarities in their height is palpable now. Nico sees Jason at eye-level, even if he’ll never meet the width of Jason’s shoulders. Jason’s face looks smoother and younger as Nico grows. He’s seen it every time he had to interact with Thalia—how he went from a small ten-year-old boy to her height in a matter of years. He’s seeing it now as time passes and he ages, while Jason doesn’t.

“Sorry,” is all Nico can say.

“Don’t be,” Jason tells him. He forces a laugh, as awkward as it may be, and the same yearning eyes are suddenly on Nico. “I should have never left in the first place.”

There’s the familiar regret in Jason’s tone that still makes Nico worry—but he notices that as wistfully as Jason stared at the sky, the ghostly demigod’s eyes are looking at him now. Only him.

Nico’s chest tingles. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go up there with me?”

*

It’s for a birthday party, Nico explains to his father. In the last occasion where Leo and Piper graced Camp Halfblood with their presence so Calypso could swear into the Huntresses, they learned that Nico had been keeping Jason company. At first, he thought Piper was going to look at him with as much rage as she did in the beginning. But her eyes softened with a sadness that Nico didn’t want to admit he was jealous of, and she asked him the same question. If he could summon Jason’s spirit.

The way they looked at him made him feel selfish for not doing it sooner. But he _knows_ the pain of talking to a dead loved one—of being shunned and having to watch them leave his line of sight. Leo and Piper were better off not seeing Jason before. There’s a pent-up frustration inside them that clearly hasn’t found peace. And—Nico knows Jason hasn’t found peace either.

“A birthday party?” his father repeats.

“If you don’t mind,” Nico says. He doesn’t want the repeat fiasco of trying to summon Jason’s spirit when it wasn’t in Elysium. In the glimmering pillars of the palace, Nico can see Jason nervously waiting on standby. “I’d like to take him for the day. To see his friends.”

Hades strokes his chin, looking back at Nico thoughtfully, then nods in agreement. “Take him for however long you like, my son.”

Jason is so excited that he vibrates with the news. “Really?”

“Really,” Hades says.

Jason laughs jovially and throws his arms around Nico before the latter demigod can protest.

Nico feel the warmth blooming in his own cheeks. “Jason—”

“Oh—sorry,” Jason responds, and there’s embarrassment in his tone. He rocks on his heels and looks back at Hades, a grin stretched across his lips. “Thank you, King Hades.”

The edge of Hades’ lips twitch. The fondness forms across his features, and Nico can’t help but think about how much his father has grown to care about Jason in the demigod’s death.

“The pleasure is all mine, nephew,” Hades says. “Your presence will be missed.”

Jason bows happily, but the excitement on his face doesn’t disappear. On the way out of the throne room, Jason looks more animated. “I should get letters from Frank and Leo’s moms. And I can let Percy and Annabeth know how Silena and Beck are doing. And Hazel and Frank will want to know how Dakota’s doing. And Piper and Leo—”

His expression halts briefly. There’s a split second where Nico sees reluctance rather than excitement.

Then, Jason raises his gaze, and the hesitation is forced away. Instead, Jason holds a smile. “I get to see Piper and Leo again.”

The lightness of his tone makes Nico’s heart flutter. Nico’s lips curl because it’s the first time that Jason truly looks happy since coming to Elysium. Coming to the palace. “Is this what you wanted?”

To his surprise, Jason studies him. Nico’s not sure what Jason’s trying to see—maybe the contrast in their physique. Maybe the similarities, since Jason hardly towers over him anymore. Then, Jason’s smile weakens just a little, no matter the vibrance in his eyes. “It’s close.”

*

The party starts off okay. When Nico mentioned throwing it at Frank’s praetor house, Hazel watched as Nico’s eyes wouldn’t meet theirs. He fiddled with his ring, which he hardly did these days. Having both camps kept him grounded. Nico seemed better in the last year and a half. But a different look surfaces to his face now that Jason is in the picture again. Not quite the sadness and distraught that Hazel had seen a long time ago, when Nico allowed himself to mourn on Zeus’s Fist.

When Nico talked about Jason, there was cautiousness to his tone that Hazel didn’t see in the way Nico talked about other people. Maybe the caution was for himself. When he explained that Leo and Piper wanted to see him, he didn’t quite meet their gaze then, either. Going to and from the Underworld seems to be mentally draining for him. Maybe emotionally draining. He warns that it may be an emotional experience, and she wonders if he parroted the same thing to Jason’s closest friends, but they convinced him to summon Jason anyway. With the right source, Nico could always be easily persuaded, and it always concerned Hazel.

Hazel echoes the sentiment again when the day arrives, before Jason and Nico do. Percy and Annabeth look excited—apparently Nico’s summoned plenty ghosts of ancient architects to advise Annabeth these days. They’ve known him longest—and while they don’t know him best, they know him better than before. Frank doesn’t look nervous at the idea. Her boyfriend spends the time tidying up his already clean house, and Hazel steals a kiss and thanks him for putting forward the extra foot for her brother.

Leo and Piper are nervous the entire time. Hazel can tell by the way Leo keeps spouting obnoxious jokes to help cheer Piper up. When he falls quiet, Piper’s hand falls to his instinctively, and they share quiet smiles. Jason’s death only brought them closer together.

Jason, decked out in the pontifex robes that they buried him, is unnerving. Jason is glowing ethereally, like the Lares around camp. He looks more like one of their Roman ghosts than he does himself, and while he died with the title of Pontifex Maximus, Jason doesn’t quite look comfortable. His ghostly form feels… _off_ somehow, fractured from the usual son of Jupiter that they’ve grown used to.

The air is strange. Jason keeps rubbing at his chest. If Hazel thinks hard enough, she can remember the dreams where Caligula pierced through Jason’s back, with the golden tip showing through the other side of him. Piper and Leo keep giving each other worried looks rather than looking at their friend, despite the insistence that Nico summon him. Percy and Annabeth carry on an amiable conversation about the shrines that Jason has built in Elysium, but that comes to a halt when Jason reaches for a slice of pizza and it fazes between his fingers.

“Oh,” is all Jason says, and suddenly the array of food across the long dining table is rendered obsolete for a ghost that can’t eat. Piper and Leo suddenly look crushed. Jason pulls his hands back, and the grimness of his expression puts Hazel on high alert.

She looks to her brother, but he’s not nearly as surprised.

Nico puts a brownie on Jason’s plate, and his eyes flash with a tender concern that catches Hazel off guard. Her brother is a kindhearted soul who offers advice to the Senate, who guards Cabin Eleven while Frank and she are warily making inventory counts at NRU’s student union, who takes care of kids in the infirmary—but this worry is different. The way Nico _looks_ at Jason is different.

And the way Jason looks back, more earnest and sweeter on his ghostly face, makes Hazel wonder how she didn’t notice it before when their friend was still alive. At one point, Frank gives her a pointed look, and Hazel just shakes her head in disbelief.

Nico puts food on Jason’s plate, like Hazel and Frank do for him. Nico carries on in their conversation, despite the awkward circumstance, like Percy and Annabeth do. Nico even swipes the last diet pepsi before anyone notices and plops it in front of Jason, who looks more or less disconcerted with the whole circumstance.

Hazel recounts how Frank bravely avenged Jason’s death, and the temperature of the room seems to change. She sees her brother fiddling with his skull ring—a nervous tick that only seems to come up when Jason is the subject. She grabs Frank’s hand when she notices him shaking, despite the fact the tale is about him.

Jason’s expression falters again when he hears the story, and he doesn’t look like a Roman emperor. He looks like a sixteen-year-old boy that died far too early, far too nobly for what should be expected of him. She knows her brother is thinking the same thing, based on the way his eyes don’t meet the rest of the room’s.

“Frank,” Jason whispers, “you did that for me?”

“We also built all of the temples you had planned in one weekend,” Frank mutters when he can get the words out. He’s braver now, but even he falters at the death of their friend. “We were inspired.”

Hazel’s gaze falls to her brother, whose expression is tight and tense. It’d been like that the first few times he roamed around Temple Hill after he could muster up the courage. “Nico helped refine some of the details that weren’t in your diorama.”

She sees it again in the way Jason tilts his head, his pale eyebrows knitting together as he focuses on Nico. Nico’s cheeks bloom red, and Hazel’s not familiar with it. She hasn’t seen it in any other guy that Nico’s talked to. Not with Will Solace, not with any of the dates that Frank and she tried to set Nico up on—but it’s just as soft and sweet.

“Some of your notes didn’t make sense by themselves,” Nico mumbles, his voice gentle, “but—”

“We used to talk about them all night long,” Jason finishes, “when I was alive.”

There’s a delicate balance to the mood of the party—literally life and death. Nico looks more in his element now than he does when he’s at Senate meetings or sharing a drink with Frank and her. It’s like a puzzle piece that makes Nico look more complete.

Then, the mood shifts when Leo tries to make light of the situation, since no one else seems quite as comfortable with Jason’s death. “Speaking of being dead—did you guys have to bury him dressed like that? You look like one of those spirits of New Rome—what do you call them, lards?”

“Lares,” Hazel corrects, and she shoots him a warning glance. At first, she doesn’t think much of it—

“You weren’t even there,” Jason suddenly says. “You didn’t attend my funeral.”

—and then Jason’s spirit looks fractured _again_ , and she feels herself going on high alert. Jason is suddenly scowling, looking as vehement and outraged, like every terrifying ghost that Hazel has seen in her life. _Not_ like the lares. Not like the wandering spirits of in the Fields of Asphodel, who only waited and droned on until the next day could come. There’s _hate_ in Jason’s voice as he yells at Piper and Leo for different reasons, there’s _regret_ in his voice, and there’s an anguish as he shuts Percy and Annabeth down.

“Don’t you ever wonder why you had an _anchor_ when you lost your memories, while I had no one?” Jason asks desperately, as he watches Percy defend Annabeth. _Jason had no one._ That’s how he feels. That’s how he _felt_ , before he died.

But as the tears form in Jason’s eyes, Nico reaches out and places a hand to Jason’s own, to console him.

“We’re going to go for a walk,” Nico says softly, and he meets Frank and Hazel’s eyes. “Please excuse us.”

Leo grumbles. “You couldn’t do that earlier?”

He quickly shuts up when they glare at him.

*

“So…I like you, and you liked me—”

“I _like_ you,” Nico corrects, and _Hades_ , _like_ doesn’t quite cover it. The words feel raw on his mouth, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s said it aloud and acknowledged it in his own ears. His eyes are brimmed with tears. His palms are littered with tiny crescents from where his fingernails have dug into them out of anger and anxiety. His soul is tired from carrying the weight of the anger that culminated when Jason left the first time.

He didn’t want to say it. He wanted to protect his heart before he could fall hard and feel the disappointment of Jason being with someone else. His heart broke anyway, torn, with half of it arriving in Elysium the same day Jason did.

His heart feels full when he lives his life above, but it never quite feels complete the way it does when he sees Jason again. He finally understands why his stepmother ate six pomegranate seeds. For as much as she loved her life, she _needed_ Hades. She _needed_ the King of the Underworld in her life, even if it was only six months out of the year. Half of her heart is down below, just like Nico’s is.

But Nico doesn’t think he can just do half of that time. He wants all of it. That terrifies him more because he’s spent so long trying to _recreate_ his life and _live_ this second chance with his family above. He can’t start a new life, like Reyan did with Thalia, even if she found a greater happiness. Nico wants happiness, Jason, and family to coincide.

“So where do we go from here?” Jason asks quietly. There’s hope in his tone, like every time that Nico says he’ll return to the Underworld. There’s a lividness to how he says it, despite being dead.

Nico smiles, despite the frustration he’s feeling. Because Jason _likes him back._ He focuses on the way Jason lulls, just from being around him. “Now you go be honest with everyone else.”

He wants Jason to find peace and happiness the same way he has, with his own friends, too.

Piper and Leo steal Jason away the moment that they return through the doors. Jason flashes Nico a lingering look, their hands interlaced, and Nico doesn’t want to let go.

But—if this helps Jason find peace, then that’s all that matters.

“He was turning into a mania,” Hazel whispers quietly as he sits down. She interlaces her fingers with his own, squeezing supportively. “Wasn’t he?”

Nico nods. “He had a lot of regrets from his past life.”

He looks around the room for a moment, watching Percy squeeze Annabeth’s hand tightly and Hazel and Frank share looks. His head hurts. He used to want to have a person the way the people around him did. He has his sister, Annabeth, Frank, Percy, and—even Reyna, still, on the right weekends. He has Travis and Connor. But they never quite make him as happy as Jason did— _does_ —and Jason’s not part of that life. Not anymore.

“He wrote them all down,” Frank suddenly says, “what he wanted to say all of us.”

Nico blinks. Even Hazel looks confused.

“What do you mean, Frank?” she asks.

He hesitates for a moment, then stands to his feet. Frank goes to a bookshelf perched against his wall in the living room and pulls out a black spiral book. At first, Nico doesn’t know what to think of it—but then he realizes it’s the exact same color and size of all the other notebooks that Frank had let him decipher last summer when he helped refine the shrines.

“This,” Frank explains, “is the last one that he ever drew in. He wrote notes in it about how he felt about us. And how he came up with the ideas for each temple. _Our_ temples.”

Percy makes a sound, commanding all of their attention. His eyes widen. “So that pegasus next to the Temple of Neptune—it was modeled after Blackjack. Wasn’t it?”

“And the carvings at Minerva’s feet,” Annabeth whispers, her own face flooding with shock. “He based it off the Mark of Athena.”

Frank nods, but for some reason, his eyes fall to Nico. He sets the book down in front of the other demigod. “Some of the notes felt too personal. I didn’t read any other than my own—but, you know, that was right after Jason died and all. When we thought we’d never see him again.”

“You told me about this once.” Nico stares at the book, unsure of what to do with it. “But you never showed me this one when we went through revisions.”

“Nico, I never had to.” Frank’s eyebrows arches into the air and the corner of his lip etches into a smile. “You knew every note, verbatim.”

The back of Nico’s throat dries. He reaches out to touch the notebook but can’t get further than padding the cover with the tips of his fingers. When he summons the courage, he thumbs the book open—casually flipping through the pages. He sees the many drafts and revisions for the Temple of Neptune, and the anvil he suggested adding to the Temple of Vulcan, so Vulcan’s children could find inspiration under their father’s gaze.

Nico pauses as his sees an image of Styx, the river goddess, and raises his head to Frank. Frank flashes a look of discomfort, like he’s intruding, but encourages Nico to keep looking.

The rest of the pages are filled with the gods and goddesses of the Underworld. There are tears on the pages, and Nico sees his name etched on every page.

There are scribbles everywhere. Little notes, that makes Nico’s heart stall in his chest. He sees pictures of all of the Underworldly deities that Jason and he had talked about one evening—on his favorite evening, when they were first getting to know each other. When his heart first sung in his chest, looking at the iridescent hue of blue eyes as they looked back at him—only him.

There’s a letter at the back of the notebook. Longer than the rest. Words skitter about the pages, imperfect and raw as Jason poured his heart into the letter before his death.

The ink is botched—muddled with dried tears from the days leading up to Jason’s death. For every emotion that Jason couldn’t quite get out in conversation, it’s written on paper. Every word is marred by the streaks of sadness and the fear of dying that Jason never let others see. Nico wonders if he would’ve seen it on Jason’s face, if he hadn’t left when he saw Jason’s spirit enter the Underworld.

It's different, from Reyna struggling to find words for her letters to Thalia. It’s different from the teasing and the little remarks that Annabeth and Percy give each other, and it’s even different from the way Frank and Hazel soften for each other.

They’re not perfect, Jason and him. They’re as clumsy as Jason’s pencil against the paper—so stupidly clumsy that neither one of them were honest about their feelings before his death—yet each page is filled with as much vibrance as their late-night conversations. The _words_ are there. The _feelings_ are there. They worked hard, like every draft of Jason’s illustrations, yet never quite made it to that final piece.

Each meeting in the Underworld is still a draft, waiting for finality.

Nico doesn’t want to leave Jason again. He _never_ wants to be apart from Jason again.

Jason _is_ his person, no matter how much Nico tried to move on with his family. For all of the friends that have kept Nico grounded, Jason wanted to be his first one _._

Nico runs his thumb over the little dents, where the letter is accented with Jason’s tears, and his chest hurts. He raises his head to the hallway, where Piper, Leo, and Jason have yet to leave Frank’s guest bedroom. Where finally, in death, Jason could air out his feelings that he kept bound in this book.

He's surprised to feel Hazel’s hand on his shoulder. “They’re going to be okay, Nico.”

“I…I know.”

“I mean the kids at Camp Halfblood,” Hazel rephrases. She gives his shoulder a firm squeeze, and he cocks his head back to her. There’s nothing but a warm, loving smile on her face. “And the Senate. We’ll be fine. Just come visit once in a while.”

“But,” Nico says, and his heart hurts from a different reason. His voice is weak. “I can’t just _leave_ —”

“Nico,” Percy interrupts. “Does he make you happy?”

Nico’s eyebrows shrivel together. The back of his throat burns, but it’s not possible for him to say no.

“That’s all we want, man.” The edge of Percy’s lips curls into a smile, and he leans into Annabeth, looking much more attuned than before. “It’s what Bianca would want.”

He can’t find an answer. Looking at the two couples in front of him, Nico knows they’re smiling with him with utter love and support that kept him from spiraling a second time. Because of Bianca. They’ve done everything in their power to make him _happy_ , which makes this harder.

_Could_ he be happier?

He wanted to be happier, but not at the expense of sacrificing this life. He _does_ want both, like how Persephone is the Goddess of Spring _and_ the Iron Queen. No matter how hard it is to leave Jason in the Underworld, he wants the happiness of being in love and being loved by family.

“Today isn’t a goodbye,” Nico whispers.

Hazel kisses him on the cheek. “I know.”

“I’m coming back,” Nico continues, and he pushes the book away. “It’s—”

“Until next time,” she finishes for him.

Nico falters, his gaze falling to the sister he’d taken out of the Underworld before. A smile graces his lips—and it’s the freest that he’s felt in a long time.

When Jason, Leo, and Piper emerge from the guest bedroom, he walks straight over to Jason with no hesitation.

*

“I don’t understand why he asked for a test.” Hades strokes his chin as he looks through the stained-glass window into the Garden of his beloved. He watches his son sitting in the white swinging bench, as Nico’s done many times while watching Persephone and Jason practice. “I already told Nico to take Jason as long as he wanted.”

In the Iris Message, Persephone shrugs nonchalantly.

“Am I not clear?” Hades frowns, recalling every conversation that he’s had with Jason Grace since his nephew’s arrival to the palace.

“Your intents aren’t always clear, love,” Persephone tells him with an arid sigh. “ _I’m_ the one who ate the pomegranate seeds. I put my foot down, much like _your son_ is the one who popped the question.”

“I hope that my love persuaded you in _some_ capacity,” Hades grumbles.

“Enough for me to keep coming back to you,” she assures him, and the sound of her voice makes Hades sad that she isn’t down in the Underworld to hold. “It’s why I give you my heart every spring, love.”

They watch onward as clouds begin to form overhead. Rain trickles from above, and for the first time in ages, a storm billows in the garden. Trees thicken. Flowers bloom, and the grass looks much more vibrant. Hades sees the life returning to his beloved wife’s garden, much like his heart whenever she returns.

He sees Jason Grace dancing with his son, as the rain pours the boy’s heart out in a way that the Underworld never could. There’s an indescribable joy and tenderness to Jason’s face as he leans into kiss Nico, and—while Hades is still confused at their current predicament, he’s glad he’s privy to a moment of his son’s happiness.

“I’m going to miss him,” Hades says. “He’s much more likeable than my brother.”

Persephone laughs, and the vapor image of her face rustles with it. “Even Father is jealous.”

The edge of Hades’s lip curls into a pleasant smirk. “Good.”

They watch onward as Nico and Jason hop around in the rain, embracing each other with emotion sweeter than any fruit that could ever be conjured. Hades’ first instinct is to go to the gardens—but he sees the way his nephew and his son look at one another, so happy to be reunited and holding each other like they’re holding the other’s heart—and decides to wait.

“If I knew Nico was going to be this happy,” Hades mutters, “I would have let Jason go sooner.”

His lovely queen laughs. “I believe my brother needed to prove to himself that he _deserved_ Nico’s happiness. And his own.”

Hades wrinkles his nose. “He’s so serious. I have no idea where he gets that from. He’s nothing like his idiot father.”

Persephone eyes him, her rosy lips curling into the same smile that he fell in love with millennia ago. “He’s certainly not like his _father_ , no.”

Later, Charon appears, toting what appears to be an exquisitely wrapped gift, the paper tinted with gold.

“I’m afraid Jason’s birthday party is postponed indefinitely, Charon,” Hades says. “He’ll be going back to the surface with my son.”

Charon looks at him, puzzled, and shakes his head. “This isn’t from me, sire. Lady Styx wanted to impart a gift for the grooms.”

Persephone makes an indignant sound. “The _what?_ ”

“They swore an oath to each other over the river, my lady,” Charon explains, and the confusion is evident in his voice. “To grow old together. I assumed they came here to ask for your blessing.”

Persephone shrieks in disbelief. “They did _what_ now?”

As she blasts their ferryman with an array of questions, Hades can only stroke his chin and watch as the two boys smile. A _blessing_ certainly made more sense. He’s never quite liked the _till death do us apart_ portion of wedding vows, anyway.

*

July 2nd. A _re_ -birthday.

When Nico returned in the morning explaining the circumstance (proceeded by Piper and Leo’s guffaws, Percy’s and Annabeth’s looks of disbelief, and Hazel’s shrug), they all quickly band together to recreate a _better_ birthday party for Jason. Hazel and he order the centurions to take care of their cohorts for the day. Leo and Piper fly back to New Rome immediately. Annabeth and Percy postpone their trip to Long Island for at least another week.

Frank spends the morning in the kitchen with Hazel making more hors d’oeuvres, Annabeth drops drachma after drachma trying to get ahold of Thalia, Percy calls a bakery for the biggest (blue) birthday cake that he can find, and Leo and Piper insist on hanging up new decorations. 

They’re putting Jason first, like all the times that Jason has done the same.

“Please tell me that you paid for that,” Frank says when he notices the Stoll Brothers waltz into the praetor house with the fairly large cake, Percy trailing behind them.

Connor shrugs. “Don’t worry—”

“We put it on your tab,” Travis reassures.

After everything is set up, they wait. Luckily not for long—Frank’s gotten used to hearing a rustling sound when it means Nico has shadowtraveled nearby. He hears it near the gate of his praetor house, and they all excitedly hide. Hazel and Frank huddle beneath the windowsill, ready to pop out the moment the door opens.

A second passes.

And another.

“They’re _here_ ,” Hazel insists quietly, “I can sense Nico’s sword.”

A laughter makes them all hover near the windows. Frank raises his head to the sight of Nico and Jason—a solid, warm-looking Jason—standing meters away from the door. Jason’s no longer dressed in the pontifex robes—but in a button up shirt and jeans that makes him look his age. And Nico—Nico holds onto Jason, hands interwoven with the son of Jupiter’s like two halves of a whole.

The happiness is so unmistakable that flowers bloom at Jason’s feet, and the sky looks even bluer.

Nico plucks a lone from the ground, amused. They hear him. “To new beginnings.”

As he goes to sniff the flower, Jason reaches out and another flower joins it. There’s warmth in his expression, and red in his cheeks as vivid as the flower petals in Nico’s hands. “To staying in each other’s lives.”

When they kiss, there’s a collective gasp, followed by an _aww._ Frank looks briefly around the room—to how Hazel has her hands across her mouth, her golden eyes glittering with love and adoration at her brother’s mouth. To the grins on Annabeth and Percy’s faces, and the way both Piper and Leo happily high-five each other. He hears Connor and Travis whispering to each other, but their eyes never leave Nico. How _happy_ Nico is, and how happy Jason and Nico are _together._

Frank only laughs. “Told you there was something there.”


End file.
